Star Wars Knights of the Old Republic: Prodigal
by Strict31
Summary: The story of Lal Sideen, based loosely on the BiowareLucasarts game, Knights of the Old Republic
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

The dream was always the same for Bastila Shan.

She stood on board the bridge of the Harbinger, a twin-bladed lightsaber hissing and humming in her fist. Her muscles tingled and sparked with the electricity flashing through her body. Behind her, Jana and Reeno stepped forward, igniting their own lightsabers. Tik Finna limped behind them, holding one arm tightly to his stomach, where he bled ichor freely.

Before them, casually waiting, leaning across one of the consoles stood the Dark Lord. Revan. Lord of the Sith, swathed completely in black robes. Revan hid behind a respirator mask, with eyes glowing dull red behind the visor. Behind Revan, the wide view screen opened into space. There, Malak's warship, the Gladius drifted, venting drive plasma from her ion engines. A host of Republic gunships swarmed around the Gladius, spearing the huge vessel with turbolaser blasts. Even though the Gladius dwarfed the gunships, she was most certainly on her last legs.

"Your fight is lost, Revan," Bastila said, lifting her chin in confidence. "Your fleet is in disarray. To continue is pointless."

Revan released a chuckle and stood straight. "Struggle is never pointless, Bastila my dear. For you see, struggle is what defines life. It is how we know we are…alive. You feel the struggle within you, young one. I can sense it. The Jedi did not prepare you for this fight, Bastila. They did not prepare you for the truth."

"Save your lies, Revan. It's over."

"I can feel the conflict within you, Bastila," Revan continued, stepping towards Bastila. Revan lifted a gauntleted fist and clenched it before Bastila. "You are a pawn of the Council, dear Bastila. Your only value to them is the Battle Meditation with which you were born. And now, they have sent you to me. To die. But that is not your destiny. Your destiny lies _with _me. Not against me." The fist unclenched and stretched out towards Bastila, an open hand, reaching. "Join me, Bastila, and we shall bring order to the chaos of the galaxy!"

"Be silent!" Bastila hissed tightly, lifting her lightsaber.

"That's it, child!" Revan snarled eagerly, "let your anger flow freely. Strike me down with your hate if you can. Give in to your anger!"

"Never!" Bastila shrieked. She lashed forward in a blur, whipping her lightsaber towards Revan's face.

And then, an explosion came, ending the dream.

* * *

In the impenetrable night of space, a starship sliced through the blackness with a white prow. Far below, there rested a shining blue sphere of a planet, twinkling in the sunlight like a steel ball. The Endar Spire, a Republic warship, tore through space at full drive speed.

Running.

Closing in fast came a wave of tiny fighters, unfolding their weapons foils. The fighter craft unleashed volley after volley of laserfire upon the Endar Spire. The Spire's point defense lasers chopped mercilessly at the snubfighters, flaming them out of the sky. But for every one that burned down, two more roared forth.

Several hundred thousand kilometers behind the Spire, four Sith destroyers trailed, and hounded the Spire's every turn, every maneuver. They slid just inside missile range and each unleashed two missiles each. The Spire zoomed over the curve of the planet below, losing the first three pairs of missiles in the magnetic field. But the last pair of missiles sank right into the Endar Spire's belly and spine. Fire erupted silently into space, and the Spire slipped off course, spinning slowly and listing to port.

* * *

Bastila shot upright in her bunk, sweating and breathing heavily. She clutched desperately at her chest and tried to calm herself. She was above this…this…sentimentality; this wayward emotion. She willed her heart to cease its hammering and lowered her head back against her pillow.

And another explosion rocked the ship.

Bastila leaped from her bunk. The ship was under attack. Hurriedly, she stuffed herself into her clothes and tied her dark hair back from her face. She grabbed her lightsaber and hooked it to her belt. As she rushed to the door, the deck tilted violently, hurling her against a bulkhead.

The door hissed open and Trask stepped in. "Commander Shan!" he cried, helping her up. "The Spire's under attack! The Sith caught up to us. We've lost our sublight drive!"

Bastila nodded. "We must get to the bridge, Sergeant!"

"This way, Commander!"

Trask led them down the twisting white corridors of the ship. As they passed out of the crew deck, the ship rocked again, tossing Bastila and the sergeant against a bulkhead. Bastila helped him up this time. He nodded his thanks and the hatch beside them exploded inwards.

Bastila held up her palm and called upon the Force to deflect the smoldering debris and shreds of molten steel buzzing towards them. Black smoke rolled through the shattered hatchway and figures loomed within, clad in silver armor.

The Sith were here.

Bastila ripped her lightsaber free of her belt and ignited it. She positioned herself in front of Trask as the Sith troopers emerged from the smoke. They saw her and immediately fired their blaster rifles. Bastila planted her feet squarely, calling again on the Force. It flowed through her like a cool breeze. She caught each stream of energy upon the surface of her blade, deflecting the shots harmlessly away.

Trask gaped at her in amazement, but recovered quickly. He drew his sidearm and returned fire. Two Sith troopers fell, but the other advanced. One drew a vibrosword from his belt and charged at Bastila. He swung the humming blade at her throat, but she simply stepped to the side calmly. She chopped her lightsaber across at him. Desperately, he lifted his blade to parry, but Bastila's lightsaber melted right through it and burned through his chest. He shrieked and fell backwards.

Bastila then hurled herself into the middle of the troopers and whirled in a circle. She brought her weapon high and low, twisting it in humming, buzzing circles. When she was finished, all the troopers were dead.

Bastila closed down her lightsaber and nodded to Trask.

"That was…amazing," Trask gasped.

"We don't have much time, Sergeant."

He nodded and led them on. As the moved down the Spire's corridors, panels exploded from bulkheads, and girders erupted through the deck. Sparks showered them, and they could hear distant blaster fire ringing through the ship. And screams.

They had to take service ladders up to the command deck because all the turbolifts past section seven were offline. Bastila swung her lithe body up the service shaft and onto the deck. In a crouch, she glanced around, keeping watch while Trask pulled himself up. He tapped her on the shoulder and pointed to his wristcomm.

"Captain Onasi's been trying to reach you, ma'am!" Trask whispered sharply, sweat streaming down his temples.

Bastila glanced down at her own wristcomm and remembered she had shut it off so she could sleep. Her cheeks reddened. She flicked it back on and Carth Onasi's handsome, rugged features appeared on the tiny screen of her wristcomm.

"…jamming intraship comms," Onasi was saying, "and it probably won't be long before they catch on to the fact I'm using personal commlinks! So we don't have a lot of time, Commander Shan!"

"Er…sorry, Captain, Onasi," Bastila sputtered. "I had to shut my comm off because of…er…"

"Don't worry about it," he cut in, glancing over his shoulder. Lines of static marched down his image. "I can't get a line to any of the other Jedi on board, Commander. The Sith have boarded in several sections, and I think they've been hunting them down. That means you're in danger, more than any of us!"

Bastila's fears had been realized, then; her presence had jeopardized the mission. Obviously, there were Dark Jedi on the Sith vessels hounding the Endar Spire. They had sensed her presence, even though she had done her level best to cloak herself from detection. "What do you suggest, Captain?" Technically, even though Bastila's rank was a temporary assignment, she outranked Carth. She had been given command of the mission; _demanded_ it actually. Carth was only on board as an advisor, primarily, because of his immense experience, working both with the Fleet and the Jedi. He was one of a handful of Republic Officers who had worked extensively with the Jedi Liaison. She had been counseled to heed his advice closely.

"Well," he told her, "the bridge has been compromised. Sith slicers have inserted a logic worm into the computer systems…I suppose they're trying to crack the Republic Deep Archive, and they could only do that from the Bridge. We're out of time. You need to get to the Escape Pods immediately. I've got some men holding Auxiliary Command, aft of section 12. I think you've got a clear path if you can get up to the Main Control Deck. But they're not gonna last long, so you've gotta hurry!"

"Understood, Captain," she replied, grateful for Carth's quick thinking. "We're halfway there already! Shan out!"

She cut the link and glanced at Trask. The sergeant turned around to get his bearings and pointed behind them. They had been headed for the Bridge, but had passed the hatch to section 12 a few meters back. "We may have to fight our way through," he muttered, checking the battery charge on his blaster. He discarded the drained battery pack and inserted a new one. He slapped the receiver plate back into place and the blaster primed the charge with a tiny whine. He nodded at Bastila, and the both of them headed back towards the hatch.

"I know your mission is classified, ma'am," Trask said as they reached the hatch. "I just…I hope it was worth it, Commander…"

"Sergeant, you have no idea," she assured him. But she didn't feel any of the certainty in her words. Her mission had depended on secrecy, on stealth. But the Sith had caught up to them so easily. Maybe they already knew about her mission. Of course, even if they didn't; even if they didn't know that she was specifically attached to the mission, they'd be after her. Of all the Jedi, Bastila Shan was unique due to her Battle Meditation.

Despair began to snake its way into her thoughts and fiercely, she pushed it aside. _The Jedi knows no fear. Fear is the path to the Dark Side. Fear leads to anger; anger leads to hate; hate leads to suffering…_Bastila had to remember her training. She had to remember her inner harmony; to draw upon it, allow it to shower over her, cooling her mind, her reflexes. It may have been, perhaps, a mistake for her to take this mission. But she would succeed. No matter the cost.

She nodded at Trask and he opened the door. Immediately, the sounds of blaster fire washed over them. The sharp barking of Sith blasters was unmistakable. She and Trask advanced quickly on the sound of the fighting, and they turned around a corner to see a knot of Sith troopers, facing away from them, trading fire with a handful of Republic soldiers.

"Wait for my signal before you open fire, Sergeant," Bastila ordered with a calm she wasn't certain she felt.

She hurled herself down the corridor towards the unsuspecting Sith. She moved with the Force, chewing up the distance faster than any normal sentient could have. Still blistering with speed, she thrust herself into the Sith position, igniting her lightsaber. She chopped all about her, letting her instinct guide her. The Sith troopers screamed as her energy blade boiled through their armor, disintegrating flesh and muscle and bone.

She hacked and spun; slashed and ducked and thrust. She whirled down to a crouch, whipping her lightsaber behind her. Trask hadn't even had a chance to fire; all the Sith were now corpses. Trask caught up to her, his eyes filled with that same amazement from before.

The Republic soldiers cheered her and advanced from their positions down the corridor, before the hatch to Aux Command. A battered fire team flanked her, gushing gratitude at her.

"We don't have much time, Commander Shan," a lieutenant informed her, reloading his blaster rifle.

"I'm aware of the rush, Lieutenant," Bastila replied. I'm afraid we--"

"Have nowhere left to run," hissed a new voice. They all glanced down a side corridor to see a lone figure, clad in black robes and shiny black leather. The flashing red of the emergency klaxon lights painted his bald skull in bloody hues. He held a twin-bladed lightsaber in his gloved fist. The red glow from the blade drenched him in its savage light.

The Republic soldiers around Bastila opened fire on the Sith Lord, hurling a fusillade of energy bolts at him. He effortlessly caught each with a whirl of his blade, deflecting two of the shots directly back into the soldiers' bodies. Two of them collapsed beside Bastila and a pang of fear stabbed into her chest.

"Bastila Shan," he chuckled, walking slowly towards her, his steps heavy with confidence. "Your vaunted talents have been for naught, it would seem. You cannot escape us, Jedi."

Bastila lifted her blade before her. This man was Darth Bandon. Once a Jedi; now the apprentice of the Dark Lord himself, Malak. "You will not win, Bandon," she told him, a flutter in her voice.

"I can feel the fear within you, Bastila. I remember you were always fearful, even in the Academy. You've never conquered it, have you?"

"I certainly do not fear the likes of you, Bandon!"

"Lies. You cannot match me, girl. You never could in the Academy, and you cannot now! For the Dark Side is my ally!"

"You've chosen to back a loser then, Bandon. Typical."

He threw back his head and laughed. He had changed so much from the youth she remembered. He had been two classes ahead of her in the Academy; a promising student who outpaced her at every turn. She remembered how handsome he had been. She'd even nursed a girlish crush on him as a child. Now…now he was a monster.

"Your thoughts betray you, Basi," he grinned, using her old nickname. "Rest assured, I will not kill you. I will make you my slave. You will know the passion of the Dark Side in my embrace, Basi. You will join with me. You will belong to me!"

"Never!" she screamed. She charged towards him, her thoughts filled with anger. But Trask and the lieutenant were able to grab her arms and hold her. She tried to shake free of them; could have hurled them away like rag dolls. But a strange calm entered her, defusing her rage. A familiar voice entered her thoughts, with words to comfort as they always had; _Bandon's just a silly little boy, honey…_

"There's no time for this!" Trask yelled into her ear. "You have to go!"

"The sergeant is right," the Lieutenant agreed. "We'll hold him. You have to go! Now!"

"But, Lieutenant," she cried, "he is a Dark Jedi! You cannot hope to match his power!"

The lieutenant chuckled bitterly and pushed her behind him. "Commander, I grew up in the Bowery on Coruscant. I fight dirty." He pulled forth a plasma grenade and armed it for a close proximity blast. That would be suicide in the close quarters of the corridor. "Now go!" he shoved Bastila towards Aux Command and howled in defiance at Darth Bandon.

"A futile gesture," Bandon chuckled.

To which, the lieutenant only replied, "Nuts!" and hurled the grenade. Bastila dashed through the hatch as it hissed open. Her last glimpse of the fight showed Bandon raising a hand up, palm outstretched towards the grenade. Then, there was a blinding flash and she heard Trask and the others screaming.

The hatch closed behind her, and a blast door slammed shut over it. The deck thundered with the blast, hurling her onto her chest. Strong hands helped her up, and she heard Carth Onasi's voice. Her eyes flashed with spots from the intensity of the grenade's blast, and she staggered in Carth's grasp.

"Damn it!" Carth hissed, staring at the blast door. "They're gonna have to find another way around!"

"They're dead," Bastila gasped, blinking her eyes furiously to clear the swirling spots from her vision. "He killed them all!"

Carth absorbed her words and nodded resolutely. "Let's go then, Commander Shan." He directed her towards a narrow side passage. On one side stood a row of control panels. Opposite each panel stood the hatch to an escape pod, recessed a foot or so into the deck.

Bastila allowed him to guide her before a hatch. He manipulated the controls and the door flashed open. "Get in!" he cried as an explosion pounded against the blast door. Bastila felt her eyes burning with tears as she crawled inside. Carth cursed softly as a red glow began to issue from the door's surface. He crawled in behind her, squeezing against her in the cramped interior of the pod. The hatch slammed shut behind him and sealed with a hiss. Massive unseen gear clanked and banged; power conduits snarled as they ripped free. With a roar, the pod leaped from its holding bay, slamming Bastila and Carth hard with inertia's hammer.

Bastila closed her eyes and prayed softly to herself, relying on the mantra of the Jedi code, pleading for someone, for _something_ to make sense of this madness, this war in heaven.

* * *

1: Undercity Blues

Perhaps a thousand years ago, Taris still had a surface. Imagined now only in the lines of poets yearning for a fool's return to green shores, but otherwise unknown to the world's inhabitants. Once, perhaps, mountains had rolled across the flesh of the planet, hurling jagged spires like proud fists into the sky. Once, perhaps, forests had flooded the plains with sheets of green, churning with the drama of living things, hunting, hiding, hooting.

But then, roads had been carved, black pavement slicing across the skin of the world, leaving scars of progress. And cities had arisen in tiered clusters, their steel and glass towers stealing the glory from the once matchless mountains. Man had set his foot in the wilderness and left it withering in his wake. Civilization had dammed the wild, penning it up into tiny swatches that cowered in the shadow of the urban sprawl.

And then, even the pavement gave way to progress; permacrete flattened the ground and made it uniform, flattening it so the cities could expand and stretch even higher. So it came to pass that the new forest of the Sprawl took root and grew. And like an old growth forest, it lashed out across the land with thick roots, digging deep. The Arcologies came soon thereafter. Cities within cities, habitats the size of entire mountain ranges. The Sprawl matured, spreading crystalline fingers over the planet to link and clench and squeeze the green into pulp.

So, now, there lived no one who could recall a time when Taris knew anything of green. There lived no one who could recall anything beyond geometrically perfect angles and engineered lines. And the cities of Taris now stood united in a single gleaming lattice that hummed and bristled all across her globe. One city now stood, covering an entire planet.

The tragedy was not that Taris was unique. But rather that, now, it was like so many of the Old Worlds. Another piece of tooled steel hanging in orbit around a wearied star.

Lal Sideen hated Taris. She didn't exactly know why. Perhaps it was because there was a fledgling memory that remained in her, of oceans unchained, of fields of green and of brown. But that memory, like all others, eluded her grasp like a wisp of smoke. Lal knew nothing of the past beyond flashes of desperation and terror in her sleep. Nothing worth holding, perhaps. So she endeavored to dwell only in the Now. The moment. That was all that she could rely upon.

That, and whatever she could actually squeeze in her fist.

Lal stood in her office, walking past the broad black curve of her desk—her predecessor's desk, actually. She smiled bitterly at the knowledge that the desk had been moved to cover the old rust-colored stain set into the taupe carpeting. Also her predecessor's. It reminded her that nothing could be counted upon. Everything was fleeting.

As she walked out onto the balcony that overlooked the yawning, thrumming pit of the Daystar, she wondered at the close presence of violence in her life. In her business. How easily she accepted it, even though she yearned for the image of something more comforting. Foolish hopes. Leaning forward against the railing, she reminded herself that it was all illusion. And she was fitted properly for it. Tonight, she had chosen a sheath of photo-reactive Myolin; a sheer piece of glimmering, diaphanous polymer that adhered to her where she needed it to and flowed free where she wanted it to. Lal's body was a tool; she had learned this lesson directly from Davik. Her body could be used to put means to an efficient end. That meant she was a tool; certainly a well crafted and well-loved tool. But a tool nonetheless.

Dressed as she was, like a lush joygirl awaiting the pleasure of the next mark, no one could even guess that she had dipped her hands deep in blood. Sometimes, even she forgot. It was easy to forget when she could stretch and purr and pretend to be as soft as her flesh suggested.

But it was, of course, nothing more than carefully crafted pretence. She was a velvet blade. Davik's velvet blade. She was his tool.

Lal had to force herself not to reach up and tie her loosened hair away into a severe little bun to keep it from her face. To keep it efficient and out of her way. Instead, she left it to surge down the sides of her face, down her bared shoulders and naked back like a forest of satin chocolate swaying in the wind.

And below her, clubbers thronged and danced and chatted each other up, writhing in the pit of the Daystar beneath a thundering sheet of digi-synth pounding from speakers three meters tall. Pazaak tables clustered in the smoke-colored shadows at the rear of the bar, and there, lifers and professional cardies did the table dance with desperate eyes that warned _this was no mere game_. Life and death for some. And the house always won, of course.

Not far away, the "arena" stood packed with spectators cheering their favorite gladiators displayed on ten holo-vids with a live feed to the numerous bloodmatches held in secret dens across Lower Taris. Half naked serving girls attended to the needs of the most notable betters. Thick-necked muscleboys glowered after those without the cred to cover their losses.

At the front of the Daystar, three stages floated on repulsorlifts; at each, a girl danced in something less than actual clothing. Customers watched glassy-eyed as the girls twisted and slithered. Soon, other biz would be taking place in the Daystar's back rooms.

Lal sighed in something as close to disgust as she could manage. She was about to turn away when she noticed one of the new girls getting pawed by some heavy-handed customers. A snarl flitted across Lal's painted lips and her eyes narrowed into slashes of black steel. She crossed her office swiftly, heels clicking sharply as she threw the door open and headed downstairs.

* * *

"Get yer paws off me, chuba-face!" Mission hissed, jiggling away from the pair of Rodians clutching boldly at her blue flesh. Her oiled lekku twitched angrily across her shoulders as one of them spat something nasty after her in Huttese. The second Rodian snatched her effortlessly in his powerful, wiry arms and began chuckling to his companion.

"I don't care what you think," Mission cried, trying to twist out of his grasp, "you bastards don't have a right to—"

"Gentlemen," Lal said in her smooth whispering contralto. She glanced up at both Rodians, and gave them enough time to recognize her. Their black, glittering eyes flicked up and down her body, but they didn't pause. "I thought I made it clear to your friends last week. Vulkars aren't allowed."

The one holding Mission chattered off something about going where they wished. They wanted to play it hard.

"Be that as it may," Lal continued softly, "I'm getting tired of cleaning Vulkar blood off the floor. Leaves the most awful stink."

Both Rodians gawked at her for a moment in utter surprise. Before they could react to her insult, she flicked her hand out like a spear and jabbed into the hollow of the closest Rodian's throat. Gurgling wetly, he stumbled back into his friend, and Lal dashed forward, yanking a tiny hold-out blaster from the sheath fitted along the inside of her thigh. She primed a charge and pressed it to the second Rodian's temple.

She smiled sweetly as a bead of viscous sweat rolled down his scaled cheek. He snarled a stream of curses at her and she shrugged casually. "This is Davik's place. And this," she nodded at Mission, "is Davik's meat. You aren't invited to dinner."

Lal glanced at the other Rodian, who was fumbling for his blaster. Her finger twitched slightly upon the trigger, ready to burn holes in both of the ganger scum. But from the press of bodies, a massive furred paw crunched down on the Rodian's gun and hand, turning both into a ruin of blood and steel. The Rodian hissed in agony, as a second wooly paw surged up to grab his throat. He was then lifted off his feet by a mountain of snarling fur called a Wookie. The Rodian's bladder released as Zaalbar roared directly in his face.

Lal nodded to the massive Wookie and her lips curled into a lush grin. "Let the girl go and you get to live."

It wasn't really a choice. In seconds, both Rodians were scrambling for the door, tossing threats and promises in their wake. Lal sighed and holstered her blaster.

"And don't come back, Poo-doo-breath!" Mission squeaked after them, wagging a tiny fist defiantly. Lal glared briefly at the twi'lek and then stared incredulously at Zaalbar, who merely shrugged shoulders broad enough to support a mountain.

"Mission," Lal said quietly, "aren't you supposed to be on stage?"

Mission's defiance fled her in an instant, and suddenly, she looked very young. Her blue eyes fell to her sandaled feet, and Lal felt a distant pang of…something?

"I was just takin' a break is all, Miss Sideen…I wasn't--"

Lal stared for a moment at the slender gold collar clamped around Mission's throat; at the proprietary tattoo encircling her naked thigh. If it had been any of the other girls, Lal would have…well, she didn't know. But Mission was only a kid, really. Of course, the rational, cold part of her mind told her that even a twi'lek kid was not a kid. Like all the other girls here, Mission Vao was property.

Of course, wearing little more than Mission herself, Lal could hardly keep from feeling a bit of decidedly unprofessional empathy. Lal steeled herself to order Mission back to work, but she glanced up and saw Zaalbar's blue eyes staring expectantly down at her. Heat flashed across her cheeks and she waved her hand at the girl. "Take a break, honey."

Mission gushed in gratitude, relief beaming across her pale blue features. She dashed off to the back in a whirl of powdery blue skin and glittering lace. Lal was left with Zaalbar towering over her, staring down in approval.

"Oh, what are you looking at, Carpet?" Lal growled. "She's too damned soft for this crap. She's gonna steel-up sooner than later."

Zaalbar whuffed in disgust reflexively pawing at his own throat, where once, another collar had ridden. "I _didn't_ do her a favor, Carpet. And I spent all my charity already. Davik's gonna have her cancelled if she keeps this up."

Thoughtfully, he growled and moaned softly at her.

Lal held up her hand abruptly to the Wookie. "We're not having this conversation. Just imagine if twi'leks do that life-debt thing too, huh? Then I've got two mouths to bloody-well feed.

Zaalbar cocked his head to the side and grunted. At the same time, he patted his furry belly.

Lal couldn't stifle a smile. "Of course, everything reminds you of food, Carpet. But you're on the clock. Same as me."

A forlorn howl shuddered out of him and he lumbered off through the crowd. She watched him clear a path through the throng of tiny bodies and chuckled. Though his breath smelled like the southern end of a north-bound bantha, the big Wookie had managed to grow on her.

Lal turned to make her way back to her office, and caught a cold shiver at the back of her neck. Gooseflesh erupted on her bare arms and she suddenly caught a pair of hard blue eyes staring at her through the crowd. He was a rugged sort, sculpted by hard hands into a bold frame. He was offworld. She could taste it on him. Natives tended to hunch their shoulders from living in the bowels of the city. He stood tall, unaccustomed to the sky being only a few inches above him and made of metal.

Her eyes drifted down to his narrow hips and she noted the weight he carried casually, the blaster holstered at his side. Soldier. Or something just as professional. Lots of professionals hunting the Lower City these days. Some she knew. Others she'd killed. She turned her back pointedly on him, allowing him a view of her curves as she strolled up the steps to her office. She wondered if she get to know him or if she'd have to kill him.

Maybe both.

* * *

As she stepped into her office, she saw Davik Kang stretched out in her chair; his booted feet crossed and perched atop her desk. He had a gammorean muscle-boy stuffed into a straining suit with him; the massive pig-face was fingering one of the frozen carbonite sculptures mounted on a shelf behind her desk. Lal cleared her throat and the gammorean's ham-shaped hands dropped the heavy sculpt onto his toe. His piggy little eyes bulged in pain, but he clamped down on a squeal.

Davik chuckled easily and shook his head. His let his eyes roam over her body and Lal endured his appreciative gaze for only a moment before she folded her arms across her chest and began tapping a foot.

"Sweetheart, I'll tell ya one thing," Davik began. "You know how t'make a package like that really work overtime."

"Dressing the part, Davik. For some reason, that's what you wanted."

"An' I gotta say, I'm impressed. Killer fashion sense. Of course, that's par for the course where you're concerned, am I right? Tell me, how did I luck out with you, babe?"

"By agreeing not to call me 'babe' more than once every three to four months."

He released a laugh that touched absolutely no part of his face. It was a mechanical sound. One he had tooled and machined to serve only a cursory function. "That sounds about right. So, I'm all used up for another few months, I reckon."

She wanted to speed this up. Even though she and Davik had a good arrangement, she felt ill at ease with the old cutthroat hanging around. Whenever he came around, it usually meant someone had to die. At least, that had been the case before he'd rewarded her with the Daystar; one of his most profitable shell businesses.

He noticed her growing impatience and sighed. He glanced at his gammorean as the creature fumbled to put the heavy sculpt back on the shelf. "Whaddaya gonna do, eh? Ya can take 'em outta the sewer, but ya can't take the sewer out of them, right? Am I right? Listen, sweetheart, fix us a drink willya?"

Lal sighed inwardly. That meant there was business to discuss. She drifted over to the liquor cabinet and poured him a Bespin Cloudwalk on the rocks. She used the three-hundred year old Flanna that he swilled like it was water. She brought it to him, noticing that his gaze lingered on her bosom a bit longer than normal. He was in a staring-mood, she guessed. Whatever. She sat on the edge of the desk, crossing her legs before him and gazing down at him.

He took a sip and nodded appreciatively. But it wasn't long before his ego drove him to stand so he could look down on her. She took the opportunity to slide back into her chair.

"Lookit, sweetness, we got trouble."

"Alright. Who. What. Where. And should it be an 'accident'?"

"That's good," he chuckled, pointing at her as he drifted over to the balcony. "But not the kinda trouble you need to deal with on those lines. I just got off the comm. With a guy I know on the Board. We're getting a visit. Political kind."

"Republic sending another envoy?" she asked. "Why is this a problem?"

"It ain't the Republic. Sith. They're comin' t'dinner. And it looks like they're plannin' on staying for dessert and a few drinks. And the Tarisian government is rollin' over to let 'em climb right inta bed."

Lal took in a deep breath and frowned in thought. "Not logical. Taris may have been a hotbed of hyperspace traffic once upon a time, but there are newer and better tradelanes. It's a smuggler's paradise exactly for that reason. But any tactical significance Taris had is long since gone."

"Taris is like a Urellian VineHusker. Gets too big and don't know it's proper time t'die." Davik took a swig of his Cloudwalker. "But who knows what the sith consider important. Religious fanatics is what they are. Never could trust a fanatic. Got no truck with 'em, Lal. Can't count on 'em to do what they're supposed t'do. Now the Republic? Buncha politicks. Grease the right palm and they love ya. You can deal with that sort."

A cold tremor shook through Lal's chest. "They're looking for something. Or someone."

"Eh? I don't really care what the hell they're on about so long as they don't screw with my operation. Skinny is that they're sending a full diplomatic compliment planetside. Likely to park a heavy battle element right above our heads. An' 'diplomatic compliment' probably means landin' a couple thousand troops. Gonna definitely put a crimp on my ops."

Lal nodded as she considered his words. "Admittedly, this stinks. But what do you want me to do about it? It's not like I can intimidate an entire empire. Besides which, Ordo and that thug Nord are better equipped for the arm-breaking. You're the one with the politicks in your pocket."

"Yeah, he mused, "most'a which, you got for me. I'm gonna need ya t'work your magic again, sweetness. The special mojo."

"Davik…"

"Don't 'Davik' me, honey. Just do what you do."

"Davik! You've got slaves for this sort of crap!"

He tossed back the rest of his drink and held the glass up, jiggling the ice expectantly. With a growl, she pushed up from her chair and snatched the glass away from him. She returned to the liquor cabinet and made him another.

He took the drink with a grateful grin. "Slaves ain't you, Lal. You could make a man forget his religion. I don't know what it is you got, but you know how to make a guy crave it."

Of course she did. Those contacts she'd purchased for him…a few still belonged to her alone. That didn't mean she enjoyed it. For a moment, she thought of poor little Mission. Of Zaalbar. Hell, Lal was every inch a slave. Her freedom was an illusion. At least Mission knew she was property.

"Damnit, Davik! These Sith are Jedi! But worse! You said it: fanatics! I'm good, but I can't seduce a religious nut. These Sith…they eat babies and all that. Blood sacrifices and crazy stuff like that. You don't seduce people like that. You simply stay out of their way and hope they don't decide to start cutting pieces of your body off while you watch."

"Yeah, well, that ain't an option. I got schedules to keep. Deliveries to make. I got three hundred thousand kees of mimetic polyalloy de-vulcanizing on the loading blocks in sector-12! I got a load of spice waiting to get a green light to Coruscant! Stuff don't keep this far out from Kessel, Sweetness. I'm a businessman. For me, time is money. And that includes your time. So you get off'a that pretty backside a'yours and get to work. I want one'a these fruitcakes in my pocket before the end of the week! Got me?"

She lowered her eyes and glanced away. "Yeah. I got it."

"Damn right you do. Damn right." He stared at her a moment longer before a smile broke across his face. "Cripes. What am I yellin' at you for? You know the drill. You're good girl, Lal. Saw how you handled those Vulkar punks. You got stones, I'll give ya that. I also saw how ya handled that twi'lek. All my girls work, you got that? That twi'lek is top of the line merchandise, no lie. But I'll burn her down in a hot second if I think she ain't gonna be worth the price I paid. Everybody's replaceable, Sweetness. Everybody."

And at that moment, Lal knew, beyond any doubt, that it was now only a matter of time before Davik got rid of her. Maybe she hadn't been as careful as she'd thought…


	2. Chapter 2

2: Down and Out of the Loop

Zaalbar groaned and whuffed softly at her as they walked the poorly lit corridor that led away from the Daystar. Lights flickered overhead, threatening to give up the ghost, and she only then realized he was talking to her.

"Hm? Is it that obvious?" she asked, a faint smile slipping across her lips. She had since changed into her customary black Slipsuit. It was a shiny black mono-piece that spacers once wore beneath clunky old exposure suits, long before artificial environment systems had made such necessities extinct. Pitfighters favored them because the Slipsuits were slick and, well, slippery. Damned near impossible to get a good grasp on someone wearing a Slipsuit. And Lal favored them for exactly the same reason. It hugged her body as close as a second skin, and she didn't mind that so much either. In a fight, her curves made fools of men. And foolish men so often became dead men if she had a say in it. Smoke and mirrors. That what she was. Outside of the club, she wore her blasters openly, mounted in a twinned rig on a belt slung low across her hips.

Zaalbar lumbered beside her, his feet pounding the aged deck plates rusting away beneath them. As was his custom, the Wookie favored no clothing over his thick coat of brown and black fur. He wore only a shoulder harness studded with pockets stuffed with tools and hidden weapons. As they continued to walk, he waited for a response to his observation. Not many people on Taris could make any sense of a Wookie's grunts and warbling growls. But Lal understood him as easily as she understood Basic.

Still, she didn't respond. She felt his clear-eyed scrutiny, and knew that she couldn't ever hide her feelings from him. He was too bloody astute. Wookies were far more keen-witted than anyone—including Lal, initially—gave them credit for. She failed to understand, of course, why saving _his_ life had meant he'd constantly be attending to her state of mind. She'd come to understand that he had little stomach for the sort of life she led. He was, at times, more trouble than he was worth. And his breath really stank.

"If you must know," she finally sighed in exasperation, "I'm tired. Tired of being--"

He interrupted with a snarling chuckle, his primal grunts chopping out a phrase that made her eyes bulge and which set her teeth in a grim, tight line.

"I was not going to say, 'piece of meat', Carpet…" reflexively, she thought back to poor Mission. Like the other slave joygirls, she was probably being whisked away back to one of Davik's hostels, to sleep in chains while she awaited a new day of being nothing more than a pretty piece of meat. "Maybe you would be best served minding your business and letting me attend to mine."

That ended the conversation efficiently enough. But Lal had the sense from his knowing expression that her outburst had communicated exactly what she had intended to hide. Damned Wookie.

Silently, they turned onto the broad avenue known as the Loop. Like most of the "streets" in Lower Taris, the Loop was just another tunnel. But it was broad enough to drive four heavy Speeders side by side down the length of it. Shops and kiosks, all closed now, studded the Loop, which ran in a lazy circle around the old habitat warrens of the Lower City. At a decent hour, a person could catch a ride in a droid-pulled cart, or maybe hail a railcar operated by independent hawkers who would as soon slit your throat as give you a ride. But there was less money in slitting throats. Well, usually.

It was even past the hour when street-filthy hookers prowled the shallow alcoves looking to sell some of their flesh. Clusters of homeless tunnel drovers huddled over makeshift pit-fires, warming their hands in the sweating chill of the underground. Above them, there was the constant and distant hum of SpeederRails, running all night long in the glittering UpCity.

Davik's little conversation had kept her longer than she preferred. She hated walking the Loop this late. But at least she had a seven foot tall Wookie beside her. His size alone was usually sufficient to discourage all but the most persistent of annoyances.

Usually.

She almost didn't notice the cold tickle along her spine.; her mind was so filled with Davik's words. But when Zaalbar's wet nose twitched at a captured scent, Lal's body took charge and pushed the massive Wookie to the side. She used his mass to push herself in the opposite direction as a blaster bolt sizzled through the air between them.

Lal went to the ground on her shoulder and rolled, coming up in a crouch, with both blasters flashing into her hands. Instinct guided her aim and she snapped off a flood of shots. The blasters hammered in her palms, spitting bursts of coherent energy into a dense mass of shadows at the mouth of a side tunnel. She heard a gasp and a Rodian body tumbled out of the shadows onto the deck. A human stepped from the shadows and continued firing at her. But she was already on the move, launching from her crouch and rolling again. Once more she came up into a crouch and fired, her brace of shots going wide.

Another volley of fire lanced at her from behind , pressing her and Zaalbar pressed against a wall. "Crossfire," she grunted at him. He nodded and moaned sharply as they both realized they had stumbled into a trap. Glancing to see the second shooter, several meters up the Loop, she noticed the familiar black and red sash of the Black Vulkars.

"Damn," she hissed, and Zaalbar snarled a curse of his own. He drew a snap-baton from one of his cargo pouches and flicked it open in one massive paw. The end of the baton crackled with electricity as it hissed through the air.

"Hey, Lal!" a voice called out. One she recognized. Savin Noo. He had been one of Davik's soldiers when Lal was still a rookie. Now, he ran with the Vulkars. Davik just wasn't bloody enough for him. "You know we got you. Dead to rights, baby. You put down the heaters and we'll have us a chat, eh?"

Zaalbar howled out a sharp curse, telling Savin exactly where he could stuff his chat. Lal examined her options. She had ducked and dodged before, but was caught in the open. They could burn her down at any moment. There was only one reason they hadn't done so; they wanted to play.

"This is a dumb move, Savin," Lal called out as he stepped out into view with two other Vulkars beside him. "Davik's gonna cut you done for this."

"Davik ain't here," Savin observed. He grinned at her, leering, a sneer wrenching his features. "You shouldn't oughtta messed with the Vulkars, Lal. We own LowCity. You don't make clowns of the Vulkars without some payback. And I think I know how to collect."

"Well, at least you're up to full sentences now, Savin," Lal tossed back. "I remember a time when a grunt and a fart was about as prolific as you could manage. Soon you'll be up to multiple syllables. Pretty ambitious for scum like you."

Fury twisted his features in a knot. "Y'know, killing you would be too easy and not enough fun. I'm gonna carve my name onto your--"

Blaster fire sang out with a sharp staccato hiss, and Savin whirled around. Lal took the opportunity and tossed a few spears of energy into his back. Energy bolts sizzled past her hair as she dropped low and kept firing.

The Vulkar in the tunnel behind her cut his losses and turned tail. Savin and his pals got themselves chewed into smoking piles of refuse, however. They had enough time to squeal a few curses; Savin lived just long enough to hiss out a wet death rattle from his throat. When the blaster fire died down, Lal saw a figure emerge from the smoke rising off of Savin's body. The man from the club.

"Streets are pretty lively at night," the man chuckled. "Maybe you ought to put that into your travel brochures…"

Lal flipped her guns up, aimed at his head and his chest. Zaalbar simply howled.

"Whoa," the human said, holding his pair of blasters up and away from her. "I'm not here to fight you."

"I'm supposed to care?"

The man paused with a frown; he didn't seem prepared for that reply. "Alright, now look, I just wanna talk with you."

"Seems like you are talking."

Again, he was a bit thrown off. His dark eyes glanced at her twin guns and he shrugged. "You mind pointing those things somewhere else, maybe? I_ did_ just save your life. Listen…my name's Carth. Carth Onasi. I just wanna talk to you."

"Who do you work for, Carth Onasi?"

"I…I don't work for anybody."

Zaalbar grunted his distrust of the man, and for once, Lal totally agreed with the Wookie. "Mmm-hmm. You were in the Daystar earlier. Now, here you are. The way I look at it, that's either one of two possibilities: A coincidence…or you're looking to get a date with me. Problem with the first scenario is…I don't believe in coincidences. As such, that makes you a hitter. Maybe you're working for the Hutts. Problem with the second scenario is…I don't do dates. And one thing I certainly don't do is talk."

"Er…right…well…you sure say a lot for a lady who doesn't 'talk.'"

"Shut up, Carth Onasi. Carpet, take his guns."

Zaalbar growled at her indignantly at the same time that Carth flicked his blasters back in line with her. "Whoa!" he cried out. "Nobody touches my blasters."

Lal's blood began to chill in her veins. Her eyes narrowed at the handsome rogue standing across from her, with his blasters leveled at her. Zaalbar stood off to the side, glancing back and forth between the two.

"Listen, lady," Carth began soothingly, "I'm sure neither of us wants to do this. Like I said, I just need to talk to you. But the Wookie's not touching my weapons. How about we both hang our heaters up, and--"

"You first, handsome."

He rolled his eyes, but nodded. Slowly, he lowered his weapons and holstered them at his hips. She waited several moments, and put her guns away as well. "Okay," she sighed. "You want to talk. What do want to talk about, Carth Onasi? The weather? Arena stats? Politics?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but then glanced around and paused. "You think maybe we could…I don't know…find a place a little less exposed, here? Those thugs are probably gonna return with reinforcements…"

As he spoke, Lal noticed the dark bloom of a recent bruise above his left eye. And the surplus fatigues he wore could not be purchased anywhere on-planet. When she had seen him earlier, she had made a wild guess he was military. Now, with Davik clamoring about the Sith coming to town, Lal was almost certain.

"Alright, Carth Onasi. I was on my way to pick up something to eat. You can buy me and the Carpet, here, a late dinner."

The Wookie roared at her and she cringed.

"Alright!" she roared back. "His name is Zaalbar. I just call him 'Carpet' because he lays about."

The corner of Carth's mouth twitched up in a crooked grin. Oh, he was definitely a rogue, Lal decided. Even if he was a soldier.

"Dinner, huh?" Carth chuckled, "sounds like a date to me…" Lal whirled on him, and snapped open her mouth to chew out a reply, but Carth immediately turned to Zaalbar and went on: "Zaalbar, huh? Pleased to meet you."

As they all fell in step, Zaalbar growled out a warning to Carth about pissing Lal off. Carth obviously understood Shryiiwook, because he nodded and gave an innocent shrug. "Just making conversation is all…"

Lal decided not to rise to the bait and simply fell silent. But as they left the Loop, she felt another tingle drip down her spine. She gave a quick glance over her shoulder into the deserted Loop, but saw no one there.

* * *

Calo Nord crouched over one of the bodies and chuckled in bemused disgust. He adjusted his multi-optic goggles to cycle from low-light to IR and rifled through the dead Rodian's pockets. These idiot Vulkars were pathetic scum. He'd be doing the galaxy a favor if he simply walked into their base and burned each of them down. Of course, Calo Nord wasn't the type of man to do anyone a favor. He wasn't the highest paid bounty man this side of Ord Mantell because he did _favors_.

He glanced up to watch the retreating trio, and realized Lal Sideen had stopped and was peering curiously back into the shadows of the alley where he knelt over the dead Rodian. Could she see him? Not possible. The overcoat he wore had circuitry that randomized colors and broke up his shape at a distance; to anyone not wearing a set of optics like his own, he'd easily blend in with the shadows.

Still…Sideen was an odd bird. Damned easy on the eyes, sure. But that made her even more deadly. Lal Sideen was built like a joygirl, but she had the pedigree of a dyed in the wool killer. Rumor had it Davik had been using her to cancel his rivals and competition long before Nord had come to Taris.

Nord didn't put much faith in rumors. Especially the rumors tossed back and forth by Davik's particular brand of halfwit thug. A largely incompetent lot. But there was something about Sideen. She didn't move or carry herself like a professional; no. Of that much he was certain. She moved more like…like some sort of predatory animal. A big graceful hunter that ruled the night; like the sable coated sabercats native to the world where he'd spent a bitter childhood. In the nights, laying on his belly to let the lashes on his back heal, he would squeeze his eyes tightly shut and listen to their deep growls as they prowled the woods. Once, he had seen one make a kill; the Yondari sabercat was a toil of steely muscles and casual easy grace. Every step it made had been delicately choreographed millions of years past. It was a regal beast; majestic. Lal Sideen walked with that same majesty. And everything that fell beneath her gaze was prey. She operated from the same program of instincts as those wondrously lethal felines.

Maybe his imagination was working on him. The mere sight of her distracted him. Sideen had that affect on males. And that troubled Calo Nord. In the past, he'd always been able to push aside his desires to do the job. He saw women as little more than brief diversions for his pleasure, but even so, that didn't keep him from burning a pretty little thing down if the price was right. He was too good at his job for that nonsense.

But here he was going and letting himself get all fascinated with Lal Sideen. Damn that woman! What was it about her, anyway? Hmm. Maybe the legs. Nord had always been a leg-man, after all.

"Oh, we'll find out what makes you so special, sweetheart," Nord whispered in his wintery rasp. His eyes narrowed behind his goggles as she shrugged and joined her pals. "I promise you that…"

"Talking to yourself, Calo?" a rough voice scraped against him. Nord whirled in surprise to see a powerful figure clad entirely in Mandalorian Armor leaning casually against the wall behind him. Nord's gun whipped up instinctively, but the armored figure went on. "They say that talking to oneself is a sure sign of madness. Like a mad Kath Hound. Got to put 'em down."

"Canderous," Nord hissed, rising to his feet and stowing his blaster. He nodded towards the helmet the man wore and said, "what's with the facemask? You on a hunt?"

Canderous Ordo reached up behind his helmet and pressed a hidden tab. The helmet split apart into a series of panels, which all slid into the collar of his armor. His scarred leathery face creased in an ugly smile. "In a manner of speaking," he replied. His voice grated like steel over stone.

"Ah. And here, I thought you were washed—I mean…heh…retired. Heh."

Canderous simply shook his head. "It never grows old for you does it, Calo? You couldn't feel alive without brushing up against the next dog, vying for space. Could you?"

"Competition defines order and efficiency, old man. It's the way of the universe."

"No Calo, it actually isn't. You've got to be able to learn from the fight. And that's something kath hounds can't do. That's why they can't be domesticated for long. Only the…pups."

Nord bristled at the insult. If it had been anyone other than Canderous Ordo, Nord would be staring at a smoking corpse. And still, if Canderous Ordo had not been Davik's top man…

"Well, Canderous, as the old dogs eventually learn…things change."

Canderous chuckled. "I like you, Calo. You're my kind of scum. But a word to the wise. Lal Sideen? She may look soft and lush, like a rainforest swathed in morning sunlight and dew. But that forest is a dangerous and cruel place to find yourself. Respect it, and maybe you'll survive the experience. Disrespect it at your peril."

Nord eased back and bit and sighed. "You're just full of colorful metaphors, aren't you? How poetic. Obviously you've bought into this idiotic myth surrounding the girl. She's just a piece of fluff, Canderous. And you? Well, your age is showing. Old man. I've got business."

"I _know_ about your 'business' Calo."

Nord paused for a moment, glaring darkly up at the towering Mandalorian. "Then you know to stay out of my way."

* * *

"Lala Sideeni Nooda Chuuda!" Lien Lumb cried out as Lal approached the Sullustan's noodle kiosk. The ancient Sullustan chattered happily at her in his high speed patois, utterly mangling the Huttese trade language most of the aliens on Taris spoke. Lal had a good ear for languages, but could only ever pick up one word in three when Lien Lumb was going at full speed.

But he made her smile with the way he jabbered at his five sons, all stuffed into the kitchen area behind the kiosk. She slid up onto a battered stool and leaned over the top of the food bar. Zaalbar stood beside her, cocking his head curiously at the Sullustan's chatter. Zaalbar sighed and shook his head and merely pointed to the numbered menu above Lien Lumb's bald pate. He picked platter numbers three, twelve, seventeen and two number sixes.

"Ay ayh!" Lien cried out in shock. And then he began firing off orders to his sons. The food sizzled loudly behind him and Lal chuckled her agreement.

"Yeah, he rather _does_ have a belly like a black hole. And it eats at my credit account too…" Lal sighed and glanced behind her at Carth. He was standing there looking like a lost puppy, staring incomprehensibly at the menu. Though Lien Lumb spoke in Huttese, the menu was entirely in his native Sullustan. Lal often forgot that very few humans ever bothered to learn to read anything other than Basic. "Seafood and noodles, Mr. Onasi. Try the shellfish Lan Oodah."

"Ah…there's…there's no ocean on Taris…"

"Heavens. Listen, Lien gets all of his stuff from a Quarren harvester operation that ships daily to like…fifteen planets in this sector. It's good." Lal patted the seat beside her. "Sit, Onasi. I'm hungry."

He swallowed his doubt and climbed onto the stool at her side. "What'd you call it? 'Lan Noodah?'"

"'Lan oodah!'" Lien corrected him. "'oodah!' Oodah! Goom Yumma yumma yumma," he went on, switching to Sullustan briefly. "Nan chuuda Lala Sideeni, neh?"

Lal opened her mouth in pretended shock. "You old flirt. I'm going to tell your wife if you keep that up."

Zaalbar grunted sardonically, and Lien released a belly-borne laugh. Lal smiled despite her mood and turned to explain to a clueless Carth. "Lien has fifteen wives. Zaalbar just said…"

Carth nodded and waved his hand, "Yeah, I picked that up. 'which one.' This place…"

Lal watched him as Zaalbar got the first of his platters and began digging in. It was simply good policy to let the Wookie eat first. Her food was on the grill already. "What about 'this place?'" she nudged.

Carth glanced around and shrugged. "I've been up one side of the Rim and down the other, Ms. Sideen. It's rare to see a planet where aliens are…segregated so openly as they are here. For all the beauty of Upper Taris, this is a backwards planet."

"Well, admittedly, it doesn't get high marks on Republic tourist brochures. But nobody ever said the galaxy was a fair place."

Carth nodded and stared distantly, his eyes boring past the kiosk to some faraway sight. "No. Not fair at all…"

Lal continued to study him, even as Lien pushed a plate in front of her. "Well, Carth Onasi. I'm trying to figure you out. You don't look like a Sith. So…what's a Republic soldier doing on a decidedly non-republic backwater?"

"I never said I was a soldier."

"And I never said I was stupid."

He frowned at her for a moment, but finally nodded. "Alright. Guilty as charged. Very perceptive."

"I get that a lot. So you planning on answering my question?"

"Hold on. _I'm_ the one who wanted to talk to _you._ Remember?"

Lal dug into her noodles and poured a liberal dose of meelee green sauce on as she ate. The green meelee leaf, when ground up, was one of the most volatile substances known. She was certain that it could be used as a natural explosive. But on Sullustan food, it was utterly exquisite. For most non-Sullustans who tried it, meelee granted them the ability to breath flames. Well, almost. Lal had an iron stomach, though. And the hotter the better, as far as she was concerned.

"Listen to me, Carth Onasi. I don't really care much who you are or what you want. You see this place here? This is mine. The people who operate their businesses here…they're almost all aliens, but they do so in peace because of the security I provide. They know me. They like me. If I put out a single word, you'd be dead inside of a day. Understand? So when you want to play games with Lal Sideen, you follow her rules. Or you walk."

"Security you provide, huh? Where was that security when you were pinned down by blaster fire an hour ago, huh? I think I had a little something to do with the fact that you're still breathing."

"And you have my gratitude. I didn't kill you out of hand, did I?"

"Oh, I get it. No good deed goes unpunished. Is that right?"

Lal sighed. "That's correct. Because in LowCity, there is no such thing as a good deed. Now, you obviously know who I am. But I still don't know you. This is me trusting you. I'm sitting here, chatting amicably with you. See? Trusting. I'm eating with you. Trusting, haven't killed you yet. Still trusting."

"All right, all right. I swear…" Carth shook his head and reached for the meelee sauce when his food arrived. "Is this stuff hot?"

"Define 'hot.'"

He groaned and shook his head again. "Nevermind. If you can handle it…"

She chuckled softly and watched as he downed his first mouthful. She saw his eyes water as the sauce hit his tongue. He gulped and reached for a glass of water. Lal stopped him. "Water only increases the heat, I'm afraid."

"Oh…it's n-not h-hot…I…just had something c-caught in my…throat…is all…"

"Of course," she smiled. Lien and Zaalbar both howled in laughter.

She felt a brief moment of sympathy for Carth and patted his back. Carth recovered after a moment or two and fanned his mouth. "Oh yeah. That's the good stuff. You, uh…eat this stuff on a regular basis?"

"Every chance I get. I like it hot." She realized what she said about a second after it slipped out of her mouth. Carth coughed loudly and Zaalbar arched a fuzzy eyebrow. "I mean…"

"I'm sure you do, "Carth rasped. "You know where I could get a good deal on a cyber-stomach replacement? I think my intestines are melting over here…"

Lal found herself grinning. It was very hard to dislike this soldier, she decided. She ordered two Tarisian ales and patted his knee. "Drink some of this. It cuts the heat."

He snatched up the mug provided and drained half of it in a matter of seconds. After he downed it, he breathed a bit easier and nodded his thanks to her. "Hey…that's actually pretty good…"

"Yeah. I think it brings out the flavor of the sauce. Feel better?"

"Uh…much. Yeah." He wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin and pushed his plate away. "Alright. As I said, my name's Carth Onasi. I'm a republic soldier. I was part of a survey mission, scouting out hyperspace routes that the Sith didn't know about or routinely use. We ran afoul of a Sith Interdictor a few systems away. They yanked us out of Hyperspace, but we held our own long enough to get the mains back up. But they didn't let up on us. Rather than lead them back to one of our bases, we chose the Taris system. Of course, the Sith being who and what they are, smelled blood in the water. When we made the jump into normal space, they were right behind us with damn near an entire battle element. She pulverized our ship, the Endar Spire. We were forced to abandon her.

"The bastards starting shooting the escape pods out of the sky. It was…a massacre. I don't know if any of the other pods survived, but there was another soldier on my pod. A…woman. She, uh…was injured during the fight on the Spire…Our pod hit in…well, it looked like the lower part of the city." He pointed to the bruise over his eye. "I took a bump on the landing. Nothing serious, though. Listen, thing of it is; as soon as we crashed, there were…I don't know, raiders. A lot of them. They were wearing the same colors as those guys we killed earlier. I tried to stay and fight, but they had me outnumbered. I had to get away. I had to…to leave my friend behind…So…after I found a place to lay low, I began asking around. I was directed to you. I was told you could help me find her."

"If she's still alive."

He thought about it for a moment. "If she's…still alive."

"Who sent you to me?"

"Twi'lek woman. I needed parts for my droid. She had a shop apparently. I think her name was…ah…Janice. Yeah. Janice Nal. She told me to go to the Daystar and ask for Lal Sideen."

Lal nodded, sipping at her ale. "Okay. Do you know what it is that I do, Carth?"

"I…have an idea. You're a gangster. You work for some big muckety-muck called Davik. As I understand it, he's a member of the Exchange. Took control of Taris's syndicated operations from the Hutts. They'd put a death sentence on him if they didn't mind starting a war with the Exchange. Or so I hear."

"I'm impressed. You hear very well, apparently. But not well enough. Didn't I tell you I wasn't stupid?"

"Huh? Yeah…I--"

Lal held up a hand and glared at him. "Allow me to reiterate. I am not stupid. Do not treat me as such. Are we clear?"

"I…I'm sorry. I'm not following…did I offend you somehow…?"

"No. You simply lied to me is all. You are not part of a survey mission. The Sith don't park a fleet over our heads and land a 'Diplomatic Contingent' just because of a survey mission. And I don't believe in coincidences, remember?"

"I can't help what you believe or don't…a fleet you say?"

"From what I've heard of the Sith," Lal went on, "they don't do anything randomly. They are very…focused. A mere survey mission isn't important enough for them to do this. And I find it hard to believe that they'd just…out of the blue…decide to come to Taris."

Carth's brow creased in concern and he massaged his jaw thoughtfully. "You're sure of this?"

"It's fact, Onasi. They're looking for someone. And I think they're looking for you and your girlfriend. You feel like revising your story? Go ahead. Take your time."

Carth stared over at her, his dark eyes searching hers. "I…no. I can't. I mean…obviously, you're right…damn it…of course, it was just a matter of time…Alright. The truth is, I can't tell you about the mission. Sorry, but I'm not gonna betray the Republic to a…a…criminal I hardly trust."

"Fair enough," she smiled. "Of course, I have no reason to help you."

He scowled darkly at her. "What about owing me your life? Isn't that enough? I don't care how important or tough you are, those guys back there were gonna have a party with you! And it wasn't gonna be pretty. And _maybe_ they would have killed you when they were done! If you were lucky! You…you owe me. It's as simple as that."

"In a perfect world, you'd be absolutely right. But this is Taris. We're about a quarter million light years from perfect. How do I know you didn't set up a deal with those Vulkars to ambush me?"

He gasped incredulously. "Well, maybe because I _shot_ them! Why would I shoot my own allies?"

"I can think of a number of reasons" she told him calmly, fixing him with a cool glare. "It makes sense to sacrifice an asset to get something you want. People do it all the time. It's called capitalism."

"I—you…you're a real piece of work, lady. I guess that's business as usual for you, but not for me. Besides, that's just absurd. I nearly got killed too, if you didn't notice! Even if I was as ruthless as you apparently are, that would just be stupid!"

"I don't make assumptions at the intellect of my opponents. I don't make assumptions at all. That's why I'm still alive."

He pushed up from the stool and chuckled bitterly. "Well, that's just great. You know what, never mind. You're just as much scum as those guys we killed earlier. I don't need your brand of help, anyway. Too expensive."

Lal exploded from her seat and jabbed a finger in his direction. "You listen to me, you mouth-breathing, nerf-stinking, broken down son of a--"

"Oh yeah, tell me how you _really_ feel, babe. Go ahead."

"Oh, I intend to, flyboy! Don't interrupt me!"

"Oh, I'll interrupt you, babe."

"And don't call me 'babe!'"

"Sorry. How's 'sweetcakes?' is that better?"

Lal's logic disintegrated in a cloud of red fury and a blaster leaped into her hand. In slow motion, she saw Carth reaching for his own blaster, but she was much quicker. Surprise bloomed upon his face as she pressed to cold muzzle of her weapon up under his throat.

"Give. Me. A. Reason."

Carth could only stare at her helplessly. "Go ahead. Do it. Kill me in cold blood. That's what you're all about, right?"

"You have no idea," she snarled, feeling her lips peel back like an animal baring its fangs.

And, as swiftly as the rage swam over her, its hot shadow passed, leaving her feeling cold and empty. She glared into Carth's eyes and tried to muster up the anger from a few seconds ago. But it was gone. She didn't want to kill him. She didn't even think he was trying to angle her into a trap. She looked into his eyes and _knew_ he would never harm her. Never betray her.

And maybe that was what had made her so angry in the first place.

Furious at herself, she lowered her blaster. She turned away from him, and, avoiding Zaalbar's intense stare, she sat down again. She began picking through her food listlessly.

"Alright," Carth sighed, taking a deep and nervous swallow. "I'm out of here. It's been fun, lady. Enjoy your screwed up life."

"The Black Vulkars," she said weakly, her voice breaking.

"Black whatsis?"

"Vulkars!" she said, a bit sharply. "Black Vulkars. They're a gang in LowCity. The idiots who attacked me. Same people who got your ladyfriend by the sound of it. If she's still alive."

"Okay…"

"For all the good it will do you. Or her. If she's alive, she'll be wishing she wasn't. The Vulkars are slavers. Women aren't…we don't do well in LowCity."

"Well…you seem to have done well…"

She whirled on him savagely, but managed to get her anger under control before it flared up again. "I…do not speak on matters of which you know nothing."

"Listen, lady--"

"No," she said calmly, "you listen. The Vulkars are more than a bunch of thugs. They are organized. They have…ambitions. They work with the Hutts…at least, that's what we've been hearing. They don't have much in the way of juice, but they do have numbers. And a surprising thirst for bloodshed. Your friend is going to be a joygirl. If she's pretty. If she's beautiful, they're going to use her long before they sell her. And she's still going to end up as a joygirl. If she's alive, Carth, she probably already wishes she was dead. I'm…I'm sorry to say this to you…but it's how Taris works."

Carth sighed heavily and sat down beside her again. "You, uh…you sound like you've got first hand knowledge about this."

"I…I suppose I do. But not in the way you mean. Women are an industry on Taris. No matter what you do, no matter how you do it, you become a commodity on the virtue of your sex."

"Lal…there are other ways. Other ways to get by. To get ahead, even."

"Of course," she said bitterly. "And is this how the Republic recruits soldiers?"

"No. Not exactly. But just because this is how things are done on Taris doesn't mean it's right. Or that it's the _only_ way. That's just stupid. And like you said…you're not stupid."

Lal turned and stared deeply into his eyes. Again, she was submerged in the sea of his honesty, his openness. His…his effortless nobility. He had no thoughts of betrayal. Of hurting her.

"Listen, Lal…I need your help. I'm…I'm willing to pay--"

She chuckled and shook her head. "I tend to doubt it. You can't even afford clean clothes, Carth Onasi. But even if you could, I don't think I could help you. I don't even think I should. You're trouble. You might not mean to, but you're a walking death sentence, Carth. I briefly considered using you. Selling you out to the Sith so they'd cut our business operations some slack. But I'm thinking they'd just kill me as well. You're too hot."

Carth smiled, and his eyes glinted roguishly. "I've gotten out of worse scrapes."

"I…doubt it. Your government's fight against these Sith is going to get you cancelled, I think."

"Maybe tomorrow, but not today. Listen…I can't tell you about my mission…but I can tell you this: you're right. If you turned me over to the Sith, they _would_ kill you. For wasting their time. They don't care about me. I'm just a cog on a wheel as far as they're concerned."

"And your companion?"

"Well…I won't lie…she's more important than I am…but neither of us are who the Sith are interested in. I can't tell you anymore than that."

"And I don't want to know," she told him earnestly. "Carth, I'm going to give you some advice. Do you mind?"

He grinned at her and said, "My mama told me to never say 'no' to a beautiful woman…who happens to be quicker on the draw with a blaster…"

"Get off this planet before it's too late. You stick out like a sore thumb. You can't help your friend."

He thought about it and took a sip of his Tarisian ale. "I'm afraid, for me, it's not that simple. See, when I was coming up in the Service, we were taught to never leave a man behind. I don't do it. So…I'm _gonna_ save her. Or die trying. All I'm asking for is a little help."

"I…" her mouth snapped shut as a random thought crossed her mind. She snatched a hold of it and examined it a bit more closely. "Actually…I might be able to help you after all. Or at least…point you in the right direction."

"Sounds good to me…"

"Cool your jets, flyboy. I'll need to arrange an introduction. And I won't be able to do that until tomorrow night. After that, you're on your own."

He mulled it over for a moment and nodded once. "Okay. How do I get in touch with you? Should I just meet you at the Daystar tomorrow night?"

"No. That's too risky. Besides which, I've got some other business to attend to. Go to Javyar's Cantina. It's right off the Loop, Southern Bloc. I'll send someone round to collect you. Try to…blend. Or…something."

He glanced down at his clothes and frowned up at her. "What's wrong with…what's wrong with the way I look? I don't…I look fine…"

"You look scruffy," she grinned, patting him on the shoulder as she rose from her stool. That wouldn't be such a problem, but you look like a scruffy off-worlder. Shave. And find some local style. Now, I have to go and get some sleep."

"Ah…sweet dreams, then."

She glanced back at him over her shoulder and chuckled bitterly. "Don't hold your breath, flyboy. Come on, Carpet."

* * *

Admiral Saul Karath clasped his gloved hands behind his back and gazed out the forward screens into the vast luminous black of space. Hanging just above the lower edge of the screen, there floated the steely blue globe of Taris. Karath's eyes narrowed into black slits as he stared down at the world. From this altitude, he could trace the forgotten vaguery of continents now merged together beneath the urban sheet of a single, planet wide city. The sun was just rising over the curve of the planet, spraying the surface with a sheen of silvery chrome.

"Admiral, coming into geosynchronous orbit in ten minutes, sir," one of the officers behind him announced.

Karath glanced over his shoulder and nodded. Behind him, in the Operations Pit of the bridge, his officers sat in acceleration couches behind control cradles, monitoring the systems of the Leviathan. Darkness reigned on the dimly lit bridge of the Sith flagship. Karath reckoned it was appropriate. Light did not belong here. It died here. He had seen it die. And beyond the constant thrum of the massive vessel's engines rumbling up through the deck plates, silence embraced the darkness.

"Mr. Yand, do be so kind as to inform General Onna of our orbital status. Spin up launch bays seven, eight and nine. Tell Commander Lain that I want Viper Squadron flying escort for the troop carriers."

"Yes Admiral."

"How long before the rest of the fleet is in position?"

"E.T.A. on the Cestus and the Gladius, thirty-five minutes standard, Admiral."

Karath nodded and turned. He was prepared to give another order, but all of his muscles froze solid. The temperature dropped sharply as the main doors hissed open. Karath's spine stiffened reflexively, and despite the cold he felt, he began to sweat.

Darth Malak, Lord of the Sith entered the bridge in a storm of cold and quiet fury. He stalked inward with silent, prowling steps, a massive predator stepping into the shadowed chamber. Malak had once been a Jedi, he had once been a hero. Now, he was a figure of primal power, and of mystery. Even his cruel face was hidden behind a respiratory mask that hissed with each word he spat forth; that turned his voice into a winter gale.

Karath had once fought in Malak's forces, when the Jedi and his former master, Revan, had led the fight against the Mandalorian threat five years ago. Malak and Revan had saved the galaxy, even as the rest of the Jedi Order stood by, secure in their own moral high ground. But afterwards, when victory had been theirs, Malak and Revan had disappeared beyond the Outer Rim. No one alive knew what they found out there, but when they returned, they were…changed.

Saul Karath could not understand the change; he did not even try. But he had his own changes to confront. Maybe once he had dreamed of being a hero. Of saving lives. He didn't know when that dream had died. But such things were no longer important to him.

It was important only that he follow Malak's order without pause. Without fail.

Darth Malak strode in a swirl of crimson to take Karath's customary place at the head of the bridge. There, he folded his arms across his broad chest and glared down at the planet. Karath stood off to the side, waiting patiently as Malak's rasping breaths counted the moments.

"Yesss," Malak hissed. "I feel you…You were unwise to leave your place of safety. Most unwise…Admiral Karath…I believe we will bypass diplomatic relations with the Tarisian government. I want troops landed at strategic points within the city center. All traffic up the gravity well will be restricted."

"My Lord…"

Malak whirled on Karath and paralyzed him with his pale blue eyes. Karath fell silent and felt his bones turn to liquid beneath the pressure of those cruel eyes. "Admiral, you will mobilize Colonel Nassat's Razor Ops teams. I want them searching for her."

Karath's eyes flicked back and forth, and his mouth forgot how to work momentarily. "Yes, my--"

"Admiral," Malak cut in, "it is imperative that we discover the reason these Republic scum have come to this insipid backwater. The Jedi Council would not risk Bastila frivolously."

"My Lord…? I'm afraid I don't--"

"Don't understand, Admiral? Understanding is not required. Compliance is."

"I…of course, Lord Malak. I obey. I believe the planetary officials will be most helpful in our…endeavors…"

Malak again turned those frozen eyes upon Karath. Karath took the hint and nodded curtly. "I…I will see to it, My Lord."


	3. Chapter 3 part one

3: Standing in the Whirlwind

Lal awoke to a Wookie roaring in her face. This early, she had no idea what the giant fur-ball was saying. His words were just a long, annoying chain of growls, barks and snarls. Her eyes snapped open, and she simply grunted.

"Caffa."

The Wookie leaned over her with his fetid breath, whuffing experimentally at her.

"Caffa now!" she cried, swatting defensively at him. He cried out in alarm and then began cursing and waving his long arms above his head. He fired an insult or two at her and headed out to get her precious caffa from the shop down the way.

"Bloody hell!" she gasped, frowning at the linger of his breath. Lal ran her hand through her wild forest of black hair and forced herself to sit through an act of sheer will. She utterly hated having a Wookie tied to her through a lifedebt. Lal couldn't get rid of him. It was like having a giant furry organ suddenly sprout from her back. She could remember a time in her life when nobody yelled at her to get up…in any bloody language.

Lal stood and staggered over to the window. For half a moment, she expected to see the sun blazing through, but of course, there was no sun. Beyond her window, there yawned only the bottomless darkness of the Tertiary Sink. The Sink was one of twenty gigantic heat sinks studding the face of the city-world, allowing the tremendous heat generated by massive machinery to bleed out into the upper atmosphere. Five times a day, each Sink dumped its heat sequentially. It made the air blister and churn like water, spilling sticky, wet heat into her apartment. She hated it. But she gained some sort of solace by gazing out into the spinning dark depths. All that open space calmed her nerves for some reason. It emptied her out.

Sighing, she pushed away from the window and headed for her fresher. There, she stripped out of the underwear and tee shirt she wore to bed and turned on the sonic shower. She climbed inside the cramped shower, which gave her space enough only to stand. Under the pulse of the sonic stream, the night's sweat and dirt misted off her skin and disintegrated. Waves of sound marched soothingly over her body, numbing her mind, loosening clenched muscles.

It took only fifteen seconds for the shower to completely scrub her clean, but, as usual, she stood under the pulses for nearly fifteen minutes. When she finally stepped out, she felt utterly refreshed. She brushed her teeth over the sink, gazing at her face in the mirror. There, she caught traces, sometimes of a face that was not always her own. The hair, so long and free, seemed as if it should be—or rather, had once been—shorter. Her skin, darker. Like someone else's skin.

She turned away from the mirror. If she stared too long, it would become a projector screen, playing her nightmares before her eyes. And she didn't want to see the Man again. He was always in her dreams somewhere, speaking to her, taunting her. Whispering with no mouth. Never with a mouth.

A cold fist clutched at her heart then, and she gasped in shock. The Man with no mouth had been there, in her dream again. She got a sudden image of him in her clouded memory. Laughing as the stars bled. Laughing as planets burned and screamed. Lal cried out and squeezed her eyes shut tightly. She pressed her hands against the sides of her head and stumbled back into her bedroom.

She blundered into her bed and fell across it face first. There, she curled into a naked ball, moaning softly to herself. "Leave leave leave leaveleaveleaveleaveleaveleaveleaveLEAVE!"

"But I only just got here", a gravel-filled voice whispered.

Lal tried to reach for her blaster beneath her pillow, but the remembered dream left her wallowing in a thick, viscous sea of disorientation. In a murky haze, she saw a towering figure looming above her. In his armor, he was composed of battered blue and silver, stained with blotches of old blood.

She got a finger or two on the handle of her blaster, but he stepped forward and calmly yanked the weapon from her grasp. Casually, he tossed it on the floor. She licked her lips and rolled over onto her back. Her hair fell across her face, and she wondered if this could get any worse.

It could.

"I wish I had a vid so I could take a holo of this lovely moment, Sideen." She recognized the voice. Wonderful. He removed his helmet, to reveal his short, bristled white hair and his furrowed, hairless eyebrows. A smirk curled his lips; the closest he ever came to a smile. He took a few more moments to stare at her body before he tossed a blanket over her.

"What are you doing here, Ordo?" she muttered through clenched teeth, clutching the blanket to her.

His pale eyes lingered on her as she covered herself, and then he purposely turned his back to her. She fished for some clothes, and found a rubbery halter that squeaked and snapped as she stretched it over her. She yanked on a pair of clean underwear and then threw the blanket angrily from her.

"Answer my question," she told him, glancing for her blaster. But he had consciously maneuvered himself between her and the weapon. She was left utterly at his mercy, and he allowed the fact to sink in to her brain that he intended her no harm. That brought heat to her cheeks. He could have killed her at his leisure if he wished.

"Does it need to be said that I wish you no injury? Or have I made my point, Sideen?"

"Oh…do be silent!" she hissed, stepping hastily into a bright pink skirt. She wondered briefly where in the hell had she ever bought anything that was bright or pink, but didn't dwell long on it.

He was enjoying her distress, of course. But he didn't know that she kept her second blaster close by. She reached into a nightstand for something to tie her hair back and also came up with her second weapon. She leveled it at his back, and calm rushed over her.

"Alright. You can turn around."

He slowly turned, and arched a bare eyebrow at the sudden appearance of the weapon.

"Resourceful," he chuckled softly.

"I trust you enjoyed the peep show, Canderous? It'll be the last thing you'll ever see."

"No need for that. I'm here to talk business."

_Drat!_ She raged inside her mind. Lal plopped down on the bed and crossed her legs. "Alright. You have fifteen seconds before I start shooting important things off of you."

He smiled that non-smile of his and nodded. "It's time for a change. I know what you're up to, and I want in."

She had to remind herself of all the things she actually _was _up to…"You're going to have to be a bit more specific, Canderous."

He chuckled. "Six months ago, you began contacting pilots. Mainly eager bush leaguers and down-and-outers. A few desperate scum here and there. Five months ago, you traveled with Davik to Tatooine during negotiations with the Hutts. There, you began setting up your own network of contacts. Three months ago, you began setting up runs. You may now rest assured that I have fairly complete knowledge of your extracurricular activities, Sideen."

"Mmm. Hold on a sec." She rose, keeping her gun trained on his face. She reached behind her nightstand to pluck a tiny palm-sized device from the back of it. She held it at chest level and activated it. It hummed softly as she glanced at the tiny display. It ran through its scan and the display screen told her there were no active or passive transmissions in her vicinity. She did another scan, and came up with another negative result. He wasn't recording her, he wasn't transmitting audio elsewhere. And he wasn't running any sort of countermeasures to hide any transmissions.

But still, there was no reason to trust him.

"Canderous, I don't know how you got past the security at the front door. But you're obviously thinking that you can touch me at any moment you choose. You see me helpless and…mmm…naked on my bed, utterly incapable of defending myself or even reacting to you, right? And you're thinking suddenly, Lal is sloppy. Lal is touchable."

"Admittedly, I had considered some random touching, yes. But decided it wouldn't be entirely prudent."

"Shut up. That was a rhetorical question."

"Of course."

She sighed and went on. "Be advised, Canderous, catching me at a bad moment is not something you will be able to rely upon a second time."

"Heh."

She narrowed her eyes at him, and felt warmth on her cheeks once more. She should have killed him; she really should have. But she had no idea how much he knew. Or what he really intended to do with his knowledge. Damn it, but she had thought she had covered herself better than this. If Davik found out, her life wouldn't be worth a single credit.

She could deny it, but if her scan had missed any bugs, that would be just as bad as an admission of guilt. And killing him would also be an admission of guilt. Damned clumsy of her.

And where was the Carpet! He should have been back by now! Unless he was filling his bottomless gut! Lousy Wookie! Unless…maybe Canderous had killed him…The man feared nothing, and he had hunted just about everything that had lived and breathed in the galaxy…

"Did you hurt Zaalbar, Canderous?" she asked in a quiet, tiny voice.

"Not permanently. It's difficult determining a proper tranquilizer dosage for a creature of such prodigious size and endurance without killing. But I have had some experience with downing Wookies. Of course, you realize I had no choice. Your Wookie would have been unlikely to listen before he started ripping my arms and legs off."

"He's not _my _Wookie."

"Whatever. But I refrained from killing him. Satisfied?"

Damn it, but Canderous was good. The best. Better than she could ever be. She hated Mandalorians. Especially the smart ones. "Alright, Canderous. What do you want?"

"I told you it was time for a change. I meant it."

"A change? What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

He sighed in dismay. "Neither of us is this dense, Sideen. I will be blunt, since that will help allay your obvious suspicions. I am a Mandalorian Hunter. I have been trained since birth to kill sentients. As a youth, questing for honor, I mastered orbital assaults with basilisk assault droids. I have led my Clan in battles worthy of song and of infamy. I have killed women and children, and I have danced on the entrails of my enemies. Today, I hunt down debtors. I torture men who are not my enemies. I…collect monthly dues and break the limbs of those who cannot pay. Do you see my problem, Lal Sideen?"

"Umm…you used to be a bloodthirsty maniac, and now…it just doesn't float your speeder anymore? Midlife crisis, I'm guessing?"

He snarled and lifted his fist sharply. "No! For others, killing is its own end. For the Sons of Mandalore, it was a _means_ to an end. A noble one. Our enemies were worthy of killing. So were their sons and daughters and wives. There was…glory…even in the killing of a woman who cursed your bloodline and promised her sons would gain vengeance on you and yours."

"Canderous…you are not exactly winning me to your cause…"

"There is no glory in what I now do!" He roared. "Davik is…Davik is simple-minded scum. His goals are likewise simpleminded. He is nothing more than a brute. A barbarian. He grows fat on the monies of the innocent. I can no longer abide being his man. Once…once I thought I had no choice. After the Clans were scattered, I…well. Suffice to say, I was disillusioned. Bitter.

"But I have watched you, Sideen. I have seen Davik use you. I have seen how he has tried to break and crush your heart with the sins he imposes on you. It is akin to caging a grand predator. Better to simply kill you than do what he has done."

"Canderous…"

"Let me finish, woman!" he snapped. "You see…when the Clans were still strong, there were women like you…what I mean to say is…Er…you are a woman worthy of…well…"

"Canderous. Please tell me you did not break into my apartment to ask me out on a bloody date…"

"The Sons of Mandalore do not…_date_! Ahem. I…what I'm trying to say, woman, is that it is clear to me, that despite Davik's grasp on your soul, you are attempting to carve for yourself an empire. Davik, fool scum that he is, is content to be an errand boy. A cog in a greater machine. You would throw down that machine and raise your own in its place. And while…I would find it…_agreeable_ to make sons with you…it is my wish to join you. And seek a greater glory."

"I see. You do say the sweetest things, Canderous. But you're still a lunatic. Ostensibly, though, even if I _was _trying to set up my own operation, I'd have to kill you. I couldn't trust you."

"You cannot afford to kill me, Sideen. Aside from my obvious value to you, there's no way you could be certain what I have or have not told Davik of your efforts to build your operation. You could ignore logic and kill me anyway, but that would be a death sentence any way you look at it. Or you could simply choose to accept my offer of fealty."

Davik would be rather upset if she simply killed one of his most valuable assets. He showed no mercy to lackeys who killed his other lackeys. It was bad for business…unless he ordered it, of course. "Canderous, if I killed you now, I could easily say you snuck into my apartment while I slept simply to have your way with me. It would be justification enough. Especially since you have already _snuck into my apartment_."

He shook his head and smiled grimly. "Davik would know better. You see, Lal Sideen, there is something you do not know. I am here at Davik's own command. Davik intends to see you dead."

"You…Davik…me…? But…what did I…" she fell silent. She knew it was true. She had felt it last night when he was speaking to her. She knew her value to him was coming to an end. Davik probably knew nothing of her schemes, but that also probably didn't matter. She was getting too good. Too strong. He'd be a fool not to have noticed the threat she now posed to his power.

But still, after all she'd done for him…

"If he had put a contract on me," she began dubiously, "I'd know about it…"

Canderous snarled in disgust at Davik. "The man is lazy and foolish. He will wait until you have solved this Sith problem for him. Undoubtedly, you will be able to seduce some influential Sith diplomat or general. You are not only highly desirable, but extremely competent. He knows that it would only be a matter of time before you used your cunning to turn a Sith to your cause. In this, a woman will always have more power than even a powerful man with money. Simple idiot biology ensures this."

She worked his words out in her mind during a stretch of ticking silence. Her eyes flicked up to meet his. "He wants you to do it, I take it?"

He shrugged and smiled coldly. "Fool that he is, Davik is still wise enough to respect my talent. But I am not fool enough to think he respects me _that _much. Lal Sideen, when Davik orders your death, many will hunt you. Not just a single man. There are those who already seek to begin the hunt. Last night, I believe, was no random attack."

"Those bloody Vulkars!"

"Quite. But they were merely tools. Calo Nord made some use of the fact that the Vulkars already would like to kill you. Or worse."

Lal cursed silently. "Lovely. That's just brilliant. All I was doing was enforcing Davik's wishes, too. He hates those twits. Tell me Canderous, did Davik know about last night's ambush?"

"I do not believe so. Calo became…impatient. His ambitions will be his downfall."

"And Davik still needs me to get a Sith in his pocket."

"There is that. I wonder, Sideen…will you still perform this task for Davik? Knowing what you do?"

"That's a silly question, Canderous. We both know that I have no choice. Even less choice now."

He shrugged. "It would be beneficial to gain an ally among the Sith, of course."

"Of course. Except I don't think it's possible. The Sith are…insane."

"Yes," he agreed. "They are mad dogs. But not so insane as you might think. Even a madman can still feel desire. And no one alive is more desirable than you, I think."

"Oh, I bet you say that to all the homicidal girls."

"No, Lal Sideen. I do not. I believe you are unique. An unparalleled gem burning brightest of all. But don't let it go to your head."

"Fine. Get out. I'll be in touch."

He nodded and turned to go. But as he turned, he walked right into a wall of fur. Zaalbar roared in fury and swatted Canderous to the floor like a toy. The huge Wookie took a thundering step forward and bared his bright fangs. Canderous wiped the blood on his lip with the back of his wrist and scrambled backwards before the Wookie's rage.

"Damn it, Sideen, call him off!"

Lal waited for a moment, thinking Canderous the unmatched murderer deserved a bit of comeuppance. But she could tell by his expression that Zaalbar was in a killing mood. She rushed in front of Zaalbar, to hold him at bay. The Wookie halted instantly, unwilling to place her in the path of his anger, but he still snarled and seethed down at Canderous.

"It's okay Zaalbar. He didn't hurt me. Leave him be."

Zaalbar roared over her shoulder and trembled on the verge of a frenzy. A naughty idea crossed her mind, then. Lal closed her eyes and painted fear onto her face. She turned to Canderous as he lay frozen on the floor.

"Canderous…! I don't know if I can stop him! He wants your blood!"

"Damned Wookie! What should I do?"

Lal giggled inwardly at Canderous's distress, but she still pretended desperation. "He wants you…"

"What…?"

"He wants you to…"

"What? What does he want?"

Lal relaxed and smiled wickedly down at Canderous. "He just wants you to say you're sorry for shooting him. That was naughty."

Zaalbar and Canderous both glanced at her incredulously.

"Sideen, I am a Mandalorian! I never apologize!"

Zaalbar thundered wildly at him, and Canderous turned stark white.

"I'm sorry for shooting you. It was naughty."

Zaalbar snarled once more at Canderous and then gave a curt nod. Lal patted the Wookie's chest. Canderous started breathing again and slowly picked himself up. Warily, he edged past Zaalbar and Lal, both of whom stared at him. Zaalbar snapped at him to get him moving faster. Canderous nearly leaped out of his armor, but hustled towards the front door. Lal followed him and ushered him out.

She sighed and returned to Zaalbar, who was still seething in the bedroom. Silly Carpet. She laid a hand on his chest and gazed up into his eyes.

He avoided her gaze and turned away in his own Wookie version of shame. He barked out a string of self-recriminations and balled his massive fists in anger at himself.

"Canderous is good, Zaalbar," she soothed. "Better than you. Better than me."

Zaalbar countered with his own warbling argument. Lal sighed and nodded.

"Of course. But you were…you were still there for me. We all have moments of weakness. No exceptions, there. I had another dream…"

Zaalbar turned, his brow furrowed in concern. "No," she replied in response to his worried growl, "I don't want to talk about it…but…er…thanks for um…for asking."

Zaalbar stiffened in surprise, expecting another Carpet remark. But Lal merely sighed and sat down on her bed. "Alright. Now get out. I'm going to change. Where the hell did I buy this bloody outfit anyway…?"

Carth warily nursed a drink as he sat at the bar. Pungent Ollik smoke formed a ceiling above his head and Hootari music pulsed just above the rumble of mingled voices. Carth was more than a little bit on edge, even though he tried his best to seem casual. He'd just spent an entire day evading Sith patrols in the UpCity, mainly by hiding in plain sight. Damn but the Sith moved fast. The UpCity streets were filled with Sith troopers, and they had already commandeered a customs facility at the spacedocks to use as a makeshift base of operations. Word had it that they were sending patrols down into the Undercity, and they were putting checkpoints in place at every access point between UpCity and LowCity.

Fighter patrols roamed the skies, and there was a rumor that an orbital blockade was keeping anyone from leaving or arriving. Even if Carth could find Bastila, he reckoned getting off-world would be beyond their combined abilities.

And his only ally was a gangster. She was beautiful, of course. Maybe even more so than Bastila Shan herself. But beneath that beauty, there prowled a savage and cold monster. Every time he found himself swimming in her dark eyes, he forced himself to remember that she was a killer and a criminal. He couldn't trust her farther than he could throw her. But damn, he needed her help.

Lal Sideen was certainly tapped into the heart of the city. Her name was on the lips of every back alley dealer and black marketer he'd run across. She was Davik Kang's number two. Believed to have participated in a number of murders that would never see the light of a court. If only she wasn't such a ruthless cutthroat…But still…there was something about her.

Something he couldn't quite grasp. Something haunting. Those almost black eyes of hers, they slashed right through him. In her presence, he had felt like she was dissecting him, opening him up to shine a light on all his secrets. Or maybe it was just that she had a great set of legs…That dress she had been wearing…well, not so much wearing as sort of…drifting in and out of at certain moments. She had a distracting…paralyzing effect…

So distracting that he almost didn't notice the half-naked twi'lek girl swishing clumsily up to him. Carth arched a dubious eyebrow as she smiled brightly and leaned against the bar beside him. The netting she wore clung to every azure curve, but managed to expose more of her flesh than it bothered to cover. Her proprietary tattoos were clearly visibly, ringing her thighs and arms, dancing across her brow. The girl glanced over at him and licked her lips.

"Buy me a drink?" she asked.

"Sure you're old enough, honey?"

Her mouth dropped wide open indignantly. "Why you--"

Carth held up his hand to cut her off. "Listen kiddo, whatever you're going for, you're not pulling it off, okay? What are you? Twelve? Thirteen?"

She gasped dramatically and balled up her tiny fist beneath his face. "Nah, _you_ listen, _granddad_, I'm old enough to get the job done, you hear me? I been in this business longer than you…longer than…well, a _long_ time, okay? So you just keep your smart remarks to yourself, and buy me a flippin' drink!"

Carth had damn well had enough. "Whatever you're selling, I'm not interested. Don't take it personal, I just prefer being hit on by adults--"

"She said you were kinda slow," the twi'lek sighed. "Listen, Lal sent me to collect you. But she didn't want it to be all obvious, laser mouth! So pretend like we're negotiating on a price and let's go."

"Lal sent you, huh? She must be paranoid as hell." Carth took her arm and rose. He tossed down a few creds to cover his bar tab. "Alright honey, I'm hooked. Let's uh…let's party. Or…whatever."

"Great, big daddy!" she cried, kissing him on the cheek. Carth groaned inwardly.

"Listen kid, you got a name?"

"Mission. Mission Vao. And you're the guy who was staring at Lal's butt last night. Lemme tell you," she continued in a whisper, "you're sooo not in her league, okay?"

"What the hell are you talking about? I wouldn't touch that woman if I was in a level-6 exposure suit! She's crazy. Hold on a sec. How do I know you're not leading me into a trap?"

She sighed elaborately and rolled her blue eyes. "I'm not. Trust me. Besides, it ain't like you got a whole lotta choice, is it?"

"Alright, alright. You got me there, k—er…Mission. At least tell me where we're going."

"Do you know your way around?"

"I…well…no…"

"Then just shut up and pretend like you're not my dad or something, huh?"

Carth glared at her and struggled not to throttle her little neck. "Okay. It's your show. But if this smells wrong to me…"

She nodded. "Yeah, yeah. I got it. I'm all scared. Maybe you can spank me if I'm bad enough, huh?"

Carth cringed.

Mission led Carth in a series of disorienting twists and turns through the guts of LowCity, just as Lal had wanted. Carth was so turned around he had no idea where he was. Lal had another one of her girls following them with a commlink, and she was ready for them when Mission finally dragged Carth into the abandoned factory where Lal waited alongside Zaalbar.

"Carth," she smiled, nodding at him and Mission. She took in Mission's outfit, and Carth's expression and had to stifle a laugh. "Carth, you can stop thinking naughty thoughts, you dirty old man."

Mission broke out with a string of giggles, while Carth's cheeks turned bright red. Even Zaalbar coughed out a little laugh.

"Alright. Yeah, that's just hilarious," Carth growled. "About as funny as pimping out a joygirl who's just a Wookie's hair shy of being a kid!"

"Yeah, that shows what you know," Mission snapped defensively, "Lal is my friend! And I wouldn't give you any action if you were the last humanoid on Taris!"

"Well that works out fine because I'm not interested. Kid."

Lal decided to intervene. "Alright. Funny, funny. Now it's biz-time. Carth, I told you I would help you out, right? Well, I put out some feelers, and learned that the Black Vulkars do indeed have your girlfriend."

"Right. Now, all I need is a way to sneak in and get her. And she's not my girlfriend."

"Whatever. It's not going to be quite as simple as all that, I'm afraid. The Vulkars might be dolts, but they're big on tech. That means they've got the blackest security guarding their digs. And please don't give that line about having been in tighter scrapes. You're likely to require assistance that I cannot provide."

Carth placed his fists on his hips and sighed in growing frustration. "Alright. Fine. If you can't help me, who do I need to talk to?"

"Well," Lal began slowly, "there aren't too many people around who would willingly or openly cross the Black Vulkars…"

"The Beks would do it!" Mission piped up.

"Shut up, Mission," Lal sighed. She glanced to Carth and shrugged. "The Hidden Beks. Rival gang."

Carth threw his hands up in defeat. "This just gets better and better…"

"Lesser of two evils in your case, Carth," Lal told him. "The Beks have a blood feud going with the Vulkars. Brejik, the leader of the Vulkars has been trying to kill the Beks' headman off and on for roughly three years or so. I'm sure the Beks would be happy to be a thorn in Brejik's side. Don't get me wrong; the Beks are scum, too. Just a slightly less scummier scum. They'll still kill you as soon as look at you. Especially you. But their leader, Gadon Theck…he's somewhat sweet on me. He'll give you an audience if I introduce you. It's your show from there, flyboy."

Carth groaned and massaged the bridge of his nose. Lal walked up beside him and folded her arms over her breasts. "Listen, Carth," she said softly, "I'm guessing this lady is pretty special to you, hmm? You love her or something along those lines? Well--"

"I don't love her. I'm not in love with her. She's a fellow soldier. That's all. I don't leave people behind. I told you that."

"Hmm. Carth, I don't care about your fight. The struggle of the Republic against the Sith. It's not my concern. Neither of them ever did a bloody thing for me or mine. But obviously, you care. And whatever mission you're on, I'm guessing it's very important to your bosses that you succeed or whatever. Risking the success of your mission for a single soldier is…well, it doesn't sound like smart tactics to me. And if she's not special to you…"

Carth opened his mouth to reply, but then thought better of it. He smiled slyly at her. "That's very good. You almost suckered me. But I told you I couldn't talk about the mission. And even a pretty smile isn't gonna change that. Why do you care so much anyway? I mean, you've got your own business, right? Like you said, you don't care about the Republic. You don't care that the Sith are monsters. Why do you care what I choose to risk my life for?"

"Well," she smiled lushly, pressing her shoulder against his, "you saved my life, right? That was very sweet of you. Maybe I just don't want to see you throw your life away stupidly. I mean, I honestly can't help you more than I already am…and I can't stop you…but maybe…maybe survival is the best option. I mean, you might be able to save this woman…but the odds are against you. It's more likely that you'll get captured. And the Vulkars will torture you until you spill your guts about everything you've ever known. Seems like a waste. You're strong and you're obviously brave…confident…"


	4. Chapter 3 part two

As Lal spoke, she turned into Carth, pressing herself against his chest. Her lips hovered close to his chin, his mouth. She felt him tense against her body, and she smiled.

"Mmm…you certainly make a lot of sense," Carth admitted. "But…have you ever heard the old Corellian saying? 'Never tell me the odds'…"

"Carth…what are you in this fight for? Do you really love the Republic so much? Is their distant struggle worth your life?"

He narrowed his eyes and shook his head. "If you gotta ask that question, you'd never understand the answer." With a sigh he gently pushed her away from him, and then took a deep breath. "More's the pity. So, is this the part where you offer me a job? Working for you? Intimately? Let me save you the trouble, okay? No."

"I could use a man like you, Carth."

"'Use' being the operative word."

"Everybody uses everybody else. It's the way of the galaxy. Every relationship is built on it. Mutual and comparative value, Carth. Anyone who tells you different is trying to sell you something broken. Listen…you think I like the Sith? I don't. But I've lived under the…dubious benefit of the Republic, and this is the best life I've been able to find. Your fight for freedom? For me…for Mission…for so many others…that's just a fight for more of the same. Best we can hope for is mere survival. But I've always felt that the best way to survive is to live well. Money is a way to do that. And if you throw your lot in with me, you will have money. A lot of it."

"Lal, that 'live well' bit is a nice touch. But even when you live well…you still gotta be able to live with yourself."

Lal chuckled softly and nodded. "There is that, yes. Okay, Carth Onasi. I've made my pitch. I would say that I envy you your freedom to hold such high ideals and morals, but I won't insult a man who saved my life."

Lal smiled at him again and shook her head. She walked over to mission and turned the twi'lek girl to face her squarely. "Mission, another task."

"Cool. So long as I don't have to go back to the Daystar," Mission said with a shudder.

"Don't worry about that anymore. I need you to go to the Bek base and tell Gadon I want to set up a meet."

Carth snorted in disbelief. "You're gonna send a kid like her into the midst of a bunch of gangers?"

"Mission's a local, Carth," Lal said. "And she's a joygirl. She's welcome in places where you wouldn't be able to walk five feet before you got burned down." She turned back to Mission and looked the girl over. Carth was probably right, of course. But having Mission run simple errands was…it was better than making her do the job Davik had purchased her to do. And that was something Carth didn't understand.

Mission smiled brightly and stuck her chin out at Carth. "Hey, no shakes, gramps. This is one _Mission_ that never fails. Alright, Lal. I'm on it."

Carth and Zaalbar walked over to stand beside Lal and the three of them watched as Mission bounced off to do her job.

"How long will we have to wait?" Carth asked.

"An hour maybe," Lal replied. "Gadon always likes to chat with me. But his…second-in-command is a real bitch. She hates me. If it were up to her, I'd never get past their front door. Don't worry, though. It'll be okay."

"I thought you said everything would be okay," Carth growled softly into Lal's ear as they stepped out of the rusted old turbolift.

"Oh…do be silent, Carth," she snapped back. Behind her Zaalbar released a long rumbling moan about the dangers of the Undercity. Mission's normally bright face was also somewhat dimmed by the contagious darkness that ruled the bowels of Taris.

They stepped out onto the broken, sweating pavement of the Undercity, avoiding the cracked slabs of permacrete, the mountains of torn, molten girders and moldering trash. It was a forest of great monolithic pillars, stretching upwards and disappearing into the yawning blackness above. These massive pillars were the very feet of the city above.

The floor of this urban forest was littered with corrugated steel skeletons and rusted iron corpses; broken hulks of ancient machinery long since forgotten and discarded; sheets of shattered plating; crumpled shells and chasses. And among the forlorn metal works, there festered rotting humps of refuse, puddles of muck so long decayed that they were little more than a brown fetid sludge. Scattered here and there were slouching huts, lit from within by tiny firelights. People wrapped in rags huddled within this patchwork village, staring at Lal and the others with fearful, uncertain eyes.

In the darkness soaring above their heads, temperatures warred over miles and miles of space, clashing in battles of hot and cold. From the aftermath, a weather system formed, and gray murky clouds drifted lazily. Occasionally, the clouds ruptured and thin sheets of anemic rain splattered down on the floor of the Undercity. From this rain, life emerged; strange and alien plants peeking through cracks in the pavement. Colonies of fungus, growths of bulging, sickeningly fruiting mold, all manner of life spilled upwards to choke the permacrete.

Again, Carth spoke up, his eyes searching around warily at the people milling about. "This is looking pretty damned far from 'okay.'"

"Well," Lal sighed, feeling every bit the same discontent, "this is just another window into the lives of those who benefit beneath your Republic, Carth. I'm sure they'll be grateful that you're fighting for their freedom."

Carth glanced sharply at her. "That's not fair. Taris did this to these people. Not the Republic. And I might remind you that Taris isn't even a part of the Republic…"

Lal smiled bitterly. "You're right, Carth. It's not fair."

Carth frowned but fell silent. Zaalbar rumbled something about having a bad feeling about this.

Mission playfully poked the Wookie's belly. "That's just your empty stomach, Big Z."

"Mission…" Lal warned.

"What? I was just--"

"Looks like we've got company," Carth cut in, pointing at a cluster of people moving towards them.

"Relax," Lal told him. "It's Gadon."

"Lal Sideen," Gadon Theck smiled, lowering the hood of the heavy brown robe he wore. Beside him, a twi'lek woman also lowered her hood, revealing a scowl of disgust aimed at Lal. With a tiny gesture, she opened her robe just enough for Lal to see the glint of a vibroblade sheathed at her hip. With them were four others, each clad in similar robes, bulging with hidden weapons.

"Hello, Gadon," Lal smiled, letting him step forward to take her in his arms. His gaze floated strangely just beyond her face, and as he embraced her, he used his hands and fingers to feel the smooth planes of her face.

"Lovely," Gadon chuckled, kissing her. Lal had to stretch on the tips of her toes to meet his kiss. As she did, he folded her into his arms and leaned into her. She let him, relaxing against his lips like she had a long time ago.

After they parted, Lal noticed Carth's arched eyebrow. Zaalbar released a tiny whuff of amusement. Lal licked her lips and tossed the Wookie a glare. Carth leaned in close to Lal and whispered, "He's blind?"

"I am indeed, friend," Gadon said, easily detecting the soft whisper. "Lost my sight in a...an occupational hazard." He turned his gleaming white eyes on Carth, and Lal saw the metallic pupils whir and contract. "Oh, I can see. After a fashion. Cyber-eyes. But not like most folks can see. Implants were faulty. Only work in infrared. When they work at all. I still need my hands to truly…see."

"Gadon," the twi'lek woman sighed, "this is--"

"Relax, Zaerdra," Gadon cut her off.

"Yeah, Zaerdra," Lal added saucily. "Relax."

Zaerdra's green eyes narrowed dangerously, but she said nothing more. Gadon did not miss her anger, but merely sighed. "So, Lal," he started, "what's this about? A reunion for old times' sake?"

"Mmm, maybe later, Gadon," Lal smiled. "Surroundings aren't exactly to my tastes for a reunion."

"What?" he chuckled. "No love for the Undercity? The garden spot of Taris?" He fixed Carth with his blind gaze and went on. "This is the legacy of progress, off-worlder. The core from which all that is sleek, all that is new and shining must come. Like a rotting Shii-fruit. Never can tell it's spoiled until you take that first bite. The center cannot hold, and yet, its decay permeates through the whole."

Zaalbar released a groan. He hated sermons. Lal gave the Wookie a nudge to quiet him.

"This is the home of the forgotten and the forlorn," Gadon went on, continuing to aim his words at Carth. "It might not be pretty, but this is truly what Taris is. And, it's the perfect place for a chat."

Carth glanced around and shrugged. "I might have picked somewhere a bit less ripe, but I hear you. I've seen places like this. Where--"

Gadon chuckled and turned away from Carth to face Lal. "Tell me, Lal. What did you want to speak about?"

"Gadon, I need some help."

"Help from the Beks," Gadon smiled, drawing smirks from his companions. "Sounds rich. Every time Lal comes calling, she needs help. Only time she comes calling, as I recall. Well, then. Tell me what the most resourceful woman on this planet could possibly need help with."

"It's for my friend," Lal said, pointing to Carth. "The Vulkars took a friend of his. Someone special to him. A woman."

"A…woman," Gadon mused. Beside him Zaerdra shook her head. "A woman, you say? Well then. I reckon that would make your friend here one of the Republic's soldier boys, since the woman Brejik pulled out of that escape pod was also Republic. Well. And that explains what the Sith are doing here. Lal, are you getting soft? I would have expected you to have sold this _friend_ to the Sith within minutes of their landing."

Lal glanced at Carth and then stepped forward. "He saved my life, Gadon. I owe him. Sort of."

Gadon nodded. "Yeah, sure. I may have a set of after market cyber-eyes, Lal, but I can see well enough. It's more than just owing anything to anybody. You owe lots of people."

"Most of whom sprouted daggers in their backs," Zaerdra hissed.

Lal merely sighed and folded her arms over her breasts. She fixed Zaerdra with a cool glare, and willed the woman to shut her mouth. Zaerdra shrank bit just a bit beneath Lal's gaze. It was enough. "Gadon…" Lal began softly, lowering her eyes, "when have I ever treated you so badly as to justify this? Maybe you're forgetting _who_ whispers _what_ into Davik's ear to make him forget that he wants your blood spilled. Maybe, in focusing too much on the past, you forget exactly what I do in the present so that you can remain unharmed."

Gadon's brown face flushed with shame from her words. He nodded reluctantly. "Maybe…I do focus on the past a bit too much. Alright, Lal. Point taken. So you wish to help a friend." He glanced at Carth once more. "Make sure you understand exactly how high an honor that is, off-worlder." Back to Lal again. "So this girl Brejik holds, this friend of yours is tight with her. Fine. Exactly what is it you think I'll be able to do?"

"I know it will be impossible to get to her physically," Lal said, "but if there's anyone who knows how to put a crimp in Brejik's plans, it's you, Gadon. I need some magic."

"I might be able to work some magic, Lal. And where Brejik is concerned, I might be willing. But it's complicated."

"Of course it's complicated," Carth said. "That doesn't matter to me."

"Well, that's good to hear, but I could hardly care what does or does not matter to you, off-worlder. I have my own concerns. Namely, a race."

"A race?" Carth growled. "We're talking about a woman's life here, and you're concerned about some…some race?"

"Well," Gadon went on, "It's not just _some race._ This is important. Important to us. To our business. See, every five years, the gangs of LowCity hold a competition. The winner of this competition gets the right to distribute…ah…shall we say…business opportunities among the gangs. It discourages constant and open bloodshed."

"I don't believe this," Carth hissed in disgust.

"A swoop race," Gadon went on without missing a beat. "Every gang that wants a piece of the action for the next five years must race. And every gang that wants to race must ante up."

"Ante up?" Carth scowled. "What are you talking about?"

Lal spoke up and explained. "They have to post an entrance fee. Something expensive. Gadon, I'm not liking the sound of this."

Gadon shrugged. "What you like and dislike has no bearing on the way things are done, Lal. You know that better than any of us. Don't you?"

"Let me guess," Carth said, "these Vulkars as using Bastila as their fee. Great."

"So, the beauty's name is Bastila," Gadon murmured. "I should warn you, Lal; this girl is almost as lovely as you are. Or so I've been told."

"What kind of a planet is this?" Carth snarled. "Is everybody here insane? You people don't even bat an eye about a woman being used as a...a…as some kind of object?"

A cold silence fell over the group and everyone turned a glare of disgust on Carth. Lal shook her head and stepped in close to Carth. He was glaring back at the others in righteous fury. Of course he was. His sensibilities were utterly alien to Taris. The nobility, the morality; the _right and wrong _to which he was accustomed…it didn't grow on Taris. Nothing did.

"Carth," Lal hissed tightly, pressing a hand into his chest, "shut your mouth right now."

"Don't take it personal, Mr. Carth," Gadon told him. "While running your mouth on a subject about which you know nothing, you've managed to hit a sore spot. Unless you're born to privilege on Taris…and if you're a woman…you're born to property. You think little Mission dresses like that because she likes to? Because she's some sort of whore? Mission is a slave. Davik's slave. Every woman here has known something of the slavemaster's whip-crack." He glanced among his companions. "And some of us men, too. So, don't take it personal just because you shot your mouth off."

"I…" Carth glanced at Lal and Mission, and even Zaalbar. He closed his mouth and nodded. "Alright. I'm stupid. And I'm sorry…"

"Don't worry about it," Lal told him through gritted teeth. It wasn't really his fault that he didn't know. That he couldn't understand. She rolled her eyes and turned back to Gadon. "So Brejik's posting this girl for his fee. What can we do about it?"

"Well…as I said…it's complicated," Gadon said. "See, Brejik, being the unwashed son of a tube grub that he is, he's trying to edge the Beks out of the competition. He knows we've got the best swoop on the blocks. And the best team. He is, in fact, so afraid that he's gone so far as to kidnap our rider, Selli."

"Selli?" Mission cried, "she's the best! That piece of crap!"

"No arguments, Mission," Gadon nodded.

"That bastard kidnapped my little sister right out of our apartment," Zaerdra growled, a tear welling at the corner of her eye. "He's threatened to cut her up if we don't throw the race!"

Gadon laid a hand on Zaerdra's shoulder and hugged her tight to him. The angry twi'lek sucked back her tears and began cursing in her own language.

Lal turned to explain to Carth. "Selli used to belong to Davik. She's only a little older than Mission. The Beks paid for her release."

Zaalbar reminded her of her own part in that bad business a year ago with a quick grunt. Lal's cheeks turned red and she glared back at the Wookie. "Shut up, Carpet," Lal told him.

"Zaalbar's right, Lal," Gadon smiled kindly, stroking Zaerdra's smooth skull. "Davik would have never accepted our payment if you hadn't--"

"Oh please, Gadon!" Zaerdra cried out, tearing free from him. "This pleek'ta whore made sure that Davik crushed every bit of innocence my sister had! Don't you dare show her any sort of gratitude for doing what she should have done years ago! And she's still whoring girls out! Look at Mission! Sideen, you're a monster as far as I'm concerned! That was blood money! If it weren't for Gadon, I would have slit your throat long ago just to watch you gag on your own blood! You witch!"

Lal simply glanced away. Zaalbar roared furiously at Zaerdra, even though everyone there knew Zaerdra's rage was justified. Lal most of all. Lal occasionally sought redemption for the things she had done. Not often, but occasionally. It wasn't enough; she couldn't do enough. And the little she had done, however reluctantly or at her own risk, was ultimately futile on a world like Taris. It was easier _not_ to wash the blood from her hands; easier when she had already bathed in it.

Still, she would never have let Zaerdra walk out of there alive. Her words demanded a swift blade across her jugular. Zaerdra should damn well have known better, no matter her feelings: one did not speak ill of Davik or his people. It was a quick way to get dead. Usually. But since Lal had learned Davik planned to kill her, the old furies no longer caught her up. No…that wasn't true. She'd been acting like this before then. Slipping up; getting misty-eyed and…sentimental. The dreams she'd been having were taking a toll on her. She was getting old and tired. And the plans she had built; the dream of freedom…that was equally futile. Freedom was an illusion, a waste of imagination.

But how she longed for the illusion; yearned to make it real.

She glanced at Carth, with his clear eyes and strong shoulders. His bright ideologies. It was a waste…wasn't it? She realized he was watching her, too. Watching her with eyes that strove to unravel her. To understand what she was. _Good luck_, she told him silently.

She turned to look at Mission, a child stuffed into the body of a woman, forced into the role no woman ever wanted to play. Mission was given no choice, however. Lal had been given no choice. She had just been told by Davik that _this is what she was_. And knowing that killed something within Lal. But Mission, with her child's smiles and rebellion…well, Lal simply couldn't kill that. Or allow it to be slain by simply standing by.

Mission hadn't been born into slavery as Zaerdra and Selli had; as most twi'lek girls so often were. Mission Vao had been an _acquisition._ Of all the humanoid sentients of the galaxy, twi'lek females were one of the most highly prized. Born and bred to please and entertain; to enthrall. It was said that sensuality was genetically engineered into them by nature; that the millennia had embedded desirability deep into their long, lustrous lekku, the sinewy head-tails where they stored their memory.

Any twi'lek slavegirl was valuable. Mission, a child with no one to claim her, had been priceless. Lal hadn't known Mission as a child, but when she was given the Daystar on Davik's whim, she'd been forced to watch the girl step into the first few feet of womanhood. She had watched Mission, still relegated merely to dancing, and had realized the girl was smart. She was brave. She had a knowledge about things that most girls simply didn't. She and Selli were alike in that regard. But Lal hadn't been able to help Selli. When Selli had grown old enough, she been forced into joygirling by the Daystar's last owner.

Lal had intervened before Mission had been forced to make that same…graduation.

She'd slacked up on Mission; Davik would have been furious had he known. But hell, surely that no longer mattered, did it?

Mission smiled at Lal and took her hand in hers. She drifted close to Lal and whispered, "Don't listen to Zaerdra, Lal. She doesn't know. Not like I know. You don't have a choice. But…but…you do what you can…I mean…on this planet, that's all you can really manage, right? I'm so grateful that you didn't make me go back to…to work…y'know?"

For some reason, Lal found herself hugging Mission. Mission clung tightly to her, and gently stroked her back. Lal couldn't stop herself from crushing Mission to her. She only let go when she realized that everyone had fallen silent. Lal released Mission and glanced around. Everyone stared at her in surprise.

Everyone except Zaerdra. "Oh, are you gonna cry now? Because you know I'm right? It's too late for you to grow a conscience, witch!"

Mission charged into Zaerdra then, snarling wildly for the woman to shut up. Mission's tiny fist zipped through the air and bounced clumsily against Zaerdra's temple. Zaerdra stepped backwards, more in surprise than pain. She stared with wide eyes at the tiny twi'lek, now transformed into a ball of fury.

"You don't know!" Mission howled. "last night…I was supposed to…Last night was supposed to be my first client! I was just dancing before that…that's all I had to do! But Davik told me I had to…I had to…and Lal stopped me! She let me off the hook! So you just shut your mouth about her! Or I'll kill you myself!"

"Mission, "Zaerdra hissed, regaining her composure, "you just opened up a big can of bad, little girl…" She closed her fist and swung, but Gadon caught it.

"Enough, Zaerdra. That's enough."

"Gadon," Zaerdra cried, struggling against his grasp. "You let me go! Nobody talks about me like that! Nobody!"

"Yeah, let her go, Gadon!" Mission snapped, waving her fists in front of her. "I'll kick the crap out of you!"

"Mission," Lal said, laying a hand on her shoulder, "she's right. Of course. Everyone knows she's right."

The fight drained away beneath the placid cool of Lal's voice. Zaerdra suddenly lost every ounce of her fury, as did Mission. Lal stepped up to Zaerdra and placed a hand on the woman's shoulder. Zaerdra was shocked into paralysis. She simply stared open mouthed at Lal.

"I'm sorry, Zaerdra. Sorry about your sister. I'm going to get her back from Brejik for you. But know this, Zaerdra. If you ever raise a fist to Mission, you won't live to see it land."

"I…" Zaerdra stammered, her eyes flickering nervously at the touch of Lal's soft voice. "Yes."

"Good," Lal nodded, gently patting Zaerdra's shoulder.

"Now…that's…different…" Gadon muttered. "You _wanna_…help?"

Lal looked at Carth, who was just as surprised. She nodded.

"If you get Selli back to us," Gadon said, "I'll go to bat for you with this Bastila girl."

"Go to bat?" Carth frowned. "Exactly what is that supposed to mean? Let me get this straight: you want me…us…to rescue this rider of yours, and then you'll _go to bat_ to get Bastila back? Is that about right?"

"My hands are tied, I'm afraid," Gadon said. "If we take her before the race, we could get disqualified. And even if we did, we don't know where she's being held. We have no choice but to wait until after the race. And even then, we have to win. We'll have enough cred to have the right to claim her."

"Gadon," Lal started, "I'm taking a risk. I'm…I'm stepping up. You need to step up too."

"Lal, I…"

"Gadon!" Lal snapped, "we'll get Zaerdra's sister! But there will be absolutely no doubt, no confusion over the fact that you_ will_ get Bastila, no matter if you win or lose."

"I…I…alright, Lal. Win or lose…we will get Bastila," he repeated softly, in a distant, tiny voice. "I reckon I owe you that much."

Lal nodded and reached out to squeeze his shoulder. "Do you know where Selli's being held?"

"That's not the problem, actually," Gadon sighed, rubbing a hand across his shaven skull. "We know exactly where she is. They've got a safehouse down here, over in Subsector-12; outlands territory. What the actual problem, however…well…it's rather a big problem. The reason I told Mission to have you meet us down here was one of convenience. We were already here, searching for an alternate route inside their safehouse."

"Are you gonna tell us what the 'big problem' is?" Carth asked, "Or are you gonna keep us in suspense?"

"Rancor," Gadon growled at him. "Biggest I've ever seen."

"A rancor?" Mission cried in amazement. "Whoa! I bet that's the one Tanka the Hutt lost fifty years ago!"

Lal groaned and shook her head. "Mission…"

"No, it's for real!" Mission protested. "I swear. I heard it from…I don't remember…but it's true!"

Carth scowled at Lal and Mission. "Rancor, huh? Wonderful."

"Local thing," Lal tried to explain, glancing doubtfully at Mission. "Kids always talk about it. Supposedly, some idiot of a Hutt bought this baby rancor….I don't know…it got flushed down a commode into the sewers or some nonsense…"

"Yeah!" Mission exclaimed.

"I don't know about a commode," Gadon interjected, "but this Hutt really did lose a Rancor in the Undercity. I've seen the damned thing. It's been getting huge eating Gammoreans and…other things…"

"How do we get around a rancor?" Carth asked no one in particular.

"We were looking for another way in," Gadon told him. "Maybe through the sewers or something. But the Vulkar security is tight. And then, there's the Rakghouls wandering about…"

"Rakghouls?" Carth gasped. "What the hell is a Rakghoul?"

Zaalbar moaned nervously.

Lal groaned softly and looked up at Carth. "Just another bloody obstacle. Do you want to get this woman or not?"

"Well," Carth began, "we don't have a ch--"

As he spoke, the turbolift behind them grated open and spilled forth a cluster of soldier clad in gleaming black armor. Each clutched a blaster rifle to their chests, and their faces were hidden behind full helmets fixed with mirrored visors. They filled out with cold military precision, moving like a single machine. Behind them, a tall woman in a crisp gray uniform marched forth, barking orders. She scanned the area with icy blue eyes and began directing her men.

At her command, the troops began snatching up the Undercity villagers, yanking them from their huts and shoving them into lines against the walls.

"What in the hell?" Gadon hissed.

"Sith," Carth growled, his hand straying towards his weapon belt. Lal drifted close and squeezed his arm to keep him from doing anything foolish. He glanced at her and nodded. "Black Razors. Elite unit. This isn't gonna be pretty."

"Damn," Gadon gasped as one of the soldiers slammed a starving woman to the ground because she was moving too slowly.

"Ever known the Republic to beat someone for moving too slow?" Carth asked him. Gadon could only shake his head.

And then, the officer noticed them.

"Adjutant!" the woman cried. One of the armored soldiers blazed a path towards her and snapped to attention.

"Yes, leftenant!"

"Disarm those individuals and line them up with the others for questioning."

"Leftenant! Aye!" the soldier whirled and fired off orders to several of his men. "Mulla! Kerek! Samna! Secure these indigs!"

"Whoa, whoa!" Carth hissed as Sith troopers surrounded their group, shoving blaster rifles into their faces.

"Give up the blasters!" one of them yelled.

"There's no need for all of that," Lal said, holding her hands up. One of them reached into her belt and yanked her blaster away. Zaalbar roared as another snatched his bowcaster. Still another trooper drew down on Carth. The female officer stalked sharply up to Carth and glared at him. She studied his face for a long time.

"I'll take those blasters," she said.

Carth released a sour chuckle. "You're gonna _have_ to, honey."

The officer's eyes narrowed into frozen slits and she unleashed her blaster. She aimed it at Carth's face. "Would you like to try again?" she asked. "Or perhaps not. Perhaps you'd prefer to assist me with something? Seems I am in need of an example. An abject lesson so to speak. You'll do nicely. Or perhaps…" her aim drifted towards Lal. "perhaps your woman, here?"

Lal groaned inwardly. _Why couldn't it have been a man instead of a woman? _Men were so much easier to manipulate…

"Or perhaps," the officer smiled, turning the blaster on Mission. "Perhaps this little sweetheart would be better…?"

"Alright!" Carth growled. "Take 'em. Just don't hurt anyone, okay?"

"Wise," the officer grinned harshly. "But I still need to make an example--"

Blaster fire erupted on the far side of the village. The officer's eyes snapped in that direction as several of her troopers fired upon a boy and a girl who were trying their damnedest to run to their mother. They got about ten feet before they were cut down.

Lal acted without much in the way of thought. And at her cue, so did Carth. She chopped the edge of her hand against the officer's throat, stunning the woman. Carth drew both blasters and whirled around, opening up on the soldiers covering them. Zaalbar yanked his bowcaster back with one hand and crushed the skull of the trooper holding it with his other hand.

Lal spun around and grabbed another soldier's rifle. She yanked it up out of the way and jabbed the toe of her boot in the gap between the Sith warrior's helmet and chest plate. The man gurgled, clutching at his crushed throat. As he fell back, Lal couched the rifle and opened up on the others.

Mission shrieked and crouched low to the ground, while Gadon and Zaerdra wrestled a pair of Sith to the ground. One of Gadon's men took a blaster bolt to the face and collapsed without a chance to scream. Gadon rose to one knee with a stolen rifle and shot down the trooper.

Zaerdra snatched a vibrosword from the trooper she'd attacked. She plunged the buzzing weapon into his belly, slicing right through his armor. She stood and tried to yank the blade free, but it stuck fast in the dead man. As Zaerdra struggled and pulled on the vibrosword, the officer recovered from Lal's blow. Coughing, the Sith officer lurched towards Zaerdra's back and shoved her blaster against the twi'lek woman's skull.

Lal stroked the rifle's trigger and stitched a line of fire up the officer's spine. The woman collapsed in a smoking heap.

"Take 'em down!" Gadon cried wildly, tossing a pistol to one of his men. Together, they opened fire on the unprepared Sith troopers. Lal hit the ground, covering Mission with her own body and laid down fire on three hapless Sith.

At this point in time, several of the villagers turned against the troops and fought tooth and nail. Within seconds, half the village had joined them; the remaining troopers were literally torn to bits before it was over.

And they all realized what they had done.

Lal rose slowly, lifting a whimpering Mission with her. She held the sobbing girl in one arm and glanced at Carth. _He_ had brought this war to them. And now, there was going to be blood. "Damn you, Carth Onasi…"

"Is the kid okay?" Carth asked, dashing to Lal's side and examining Mission. "She's fine. She's fine. Listen, it won't be long before they decide to check up on this patrol and get static over their commlinks. We have to go!"

"Fine," Lal hissed, furious at the man for bringing his war to Taris. "Gadon! How do we--"

"I'll be in touch!" Gadon told her. "I've still got your number! I'm going to move these people out of here to another subsector! If they're here when those Sith dogs return, they'll slaughter first and ask questions never!"

Lal nodded mechanically as Carth grabbed her and Mission by their arms. Zaalbar howled out a warning as they approached the turbolift.

"He's right!" Lal said, "the lift is probably compromised!"

As she said that, the turbolift dinged, warning that the car door was about to open. Carth snarled incoherently and reached in his jacket. He came up with a plasma detonator, twisted the arming pin and dropped it in front of the turboshaft doors. "Move!" he cried, pushing Lal and Mission in front of him.

The four of them ran hell for leather as the detonator cracked open and released a storm of blue fire as hot as a sun. The ground shook and hurled them from their feet.

"Come on!" Carth roared, yanking the women upright. "We need to find another way up!"

Lal shook her head weakly. "I don't…I don't…"

"Come on!" Carth yelled once more.

"I don't bloody-well know Undercity!" Lal yelled back at him.

"I know a w-way," Mission murmured, numb from shock. Her voice cleared a bit and she said louder, "I know a way! My brother and me used to hide down here when I was little…I know a way up."

"Mission," Carth sighed. "You're a lifesaver. I take back all that kid-stuff I said earlier!"

"C-c-cool…"


	5. Chapter 4 part one

4: Caught in the Undertow

Bandon felt his lip curl back from his teeth as he listened to the comm chatter issuing from the helmets of the Sith troopers flanking him in the cold gloom of Taris's Undercity. He could feel their nervousness, their fear bleeding through the creases of their armor as the darkness swirled before them. They were small beings, hiding inside their armor, trembling at the thought of what lay in waiting for them in the darkness.

Two days ago, a Black Razor Operations squad had been lost down here. The only thing that had been found was the naked body of Leftenant Peer, chewed and gnawed to gristle and bone by…something. Bandon supposed the rumors of the living dead prowling the shadows might have had some truth to them. Ever since he had taken command of the Ops teams, he had heard nothing but tales of the dead who ate men. The filthy and pathetic mewling locals were filled with these tales, promising swift vengeance by the so-called Rakghouls right before Bandon had ordered them set afire.

For two days, Bandon had killed and killed, tearing through entire villages. For every Sith who had been killed in that squad, ten Tarisian underscum would die. He had started by simply ordering them shot. But it occurred to him that, while this certainly got the job done, it didn't exactly communicate the point. His men still continued to die; one or two at a time, on patrols through the sweating gloom. He had ordered his soldiers to set the villages afire, to burn the pathetic huts while the villagers were themselves rounded up. And down to every man, woman and child, they were impaled. Alive. It was an ancient Sith discipline that had survived the ages; to impale a victim without killing. A strong man would take days to die. So, he had taken to staking the villagers alive, and planting them upright amidst the smoking ruins of their burned huts. Their agonized screams would be a warning cry, that the Sith had come. And their bodies would be a message.

It was, of course, barbaric. Necessity often was. There was an undeniable and practical logic in ruthlessness. But few rational men had the belly for this sort of business. And Bandon was a rational man. It was the way of the Sith to embrace passion and fury. But Bandon knew that fury made a man's mind weak. He had his passions, to be certain. However, since he was not here to indulge those passions, Bandon let his intellect rule.

Still, his men kept dying. Every time a patrol went out searching for the Jedi Bastila, it returned short a man or three, the survivors cold with terror. The message still had not been received. He decided to drive the point home by setting impaled villagers on fire. Necessity. Perhaps some Sith would have reveled in the killing. Bandon did not. Could not. This was a means to an end.

Pacification of an entire planet took something more than force of arms; it took more even than the threat of death. It required terror. Cold, unreasoning horror. Terror drained the fight from any rebel. Terror made an intelligent man into a gibbering fool. Terror made strong men into mewling babies. And he was certain there was enough steel in these Tarisian dogs to resist his will, to keep killing his men. Before Bandon had started burning villagers alive, he had not believed these tales of walking dead men. But as the greasy smoke from a living pyre coursed over his face, he began to wonder. These Tarisian wretches could not be so foolish as to keep murdering his warriors from the shadows. It availed them only the deaths of their loved ones.

It had to be someone…something…else.

Bandon was not a man accustomed to the sensation of fear. He was a Lord of the Sith, apprentice to Darth Malak. But these weak-kneed soldiers were composed of lesser meat. They would buckle. Falter. Pride whispered at his shoulder, urging him to abandon these dogs. But logic countered with its own wise arguments. If there was something down here, better to have these troops at his back. If only for the sake of a distraction.

He grew tired of the comm chatter. "Adjutant!" he snarled.

"Sir!"

Bandon narrowed his pale gray eyes into snowy slits, and slowly turned to face the senior non-comm. "Report."

"We've been unable to re-establish contact with Alpha Squad, my Lord. Their last transmission reported discovery of some wreckage about two hundred meters west of checkpoint seven."

"That will be the Republic pod," Bandon hissed softly. "Adjutant, gather your men. We will be tracing their route into the wastelands."

"I…yes, of course, my Lord Bandon."

Twenty minutes later, Bandon prowled the darkness at the head of the Sith squad, quietly slipping over piles of rusted metal and stinking refuse. They had come to an obstacle in their path, some ancient crashed vessel so long corroded that it seemed to grow right out of the ground. Its sprawling carcass stretched for nearly a hundred feet before growing into a wall that utterly cut them off from Alpha Squad's trail. In the moist darkness, they could not pick up the path Alpha Squad had used to get past the barrier. And so, Bandon had peeled away from the rest of his team. He did not need light as did the others. He allowed the Force to guide him, and it painted the dark clearly in stark grays and whites. He reached out with his feelings, probing the shattered and twisted landscape for ambush. Any living thing would seem to glow to his eyes. Life created a blazing chain through the Force. All things were so linked, even the most humble speck of dust. But life, which fueled the Force with its passion and chaos, that shimmered brightest.

Bandon began to drift farther away from his squad of men. They were intolerably loud, incapable of masking their noise as he was. He should have had one of them walking the point position, but for all their training, they were incompetents beside a true Lord of the Sith, who could hide in broadest daylight and walk unseen and unheard amidst a crowd.

And, they tended to miss things when they could only see with their eyes. His dark senses easily picked out the black trench carved into the ground. A dry canal, five feet deep and twice that wide. Peering into it, he noted the hard edges; it was manmade, perhaps intended long ago to channel sewage. In the hollow of the canal there was an opening, blocked by a corroded grille. He estimated it was wide enough for a man to walk inside it.

He reached into the stiff collar of his black leather cuirass and pressed the tiny commlink to his lips. "Adjutant, move up on my position. I've found an entrance to the sewers. This should allow us to cross past the blocked passageway to Checkpoint seven."

He then reached to his belt and unleashed the twin-bladed lightsaber hanging there. It flashed to crimson brilliance with a rasping hiss, and hummed angrily in his hand. He leaped down into the canal and slashed once. The glowing blade growled as it disintegrated the rusted bars of the grille. He shut down his lightsaber and kicked away the remaining bars. His squad clanked loudly up behind him and immediately set up a defensive position atop the canal.

"There's no other way around, my Lord Bandon?" Adjutant Saar asked, joining Bandon inside the canal at the mouth of the passageway. "This is…tactically unsound. We will barely have room to fire if trouble should present itself…"

"Did you join the Legions to embrace the challenges presented to you by the universe?" Bandon chuckled, "or to cower like an old woman? Time is of the essence. Every minute wasted on ruminations of the unknown is a minute the Jedi have to evade us. Embrace your fear, Adjutant Saar. Or feel the heat of my blade. Your choice."

Saar nodded stiffly, glancing with fear at Bandon's lightsaber. He signaled to his men. "Genwaadi, Lorst, you're up."

Two troopers cursed softly and stepped forward. They climbed down into the canal and snapped on the IR beams mounted on their blaster rifles. Both peered into the darkness of the passageway tentatively.

"Move!" Bandon hissed tightly. At his steely command, Genwaadi stepped in as if shoved. He disappeared within the opening, followed closely by Lorst. Bandon crouched low at the mouth of the passage and watched as they were swallowed by the darkness within. Several seconds passed as Bandon listened to the scuffle of their boots bouncing back down the passage towards him. He sighed and made to enter behind them. As he did so, the passageway erupted with the blistering curdle of screaming. Wet crunches spilled out of the tunnel and Bandon instinctively ignited his saber. The red glare it cast briefly illuminated long, pale limbs thrashing and bright yellow teeth. Gleaming eyes reflected the light of his blade.

"Damn," Bandon gasped. He saw flashes of motion within the darkness, the splatter of dark blood. He stumbled backwards from the passage way and called for Saar.

As he did so, screams tore through the squad behind and above him. He whirled and saw pale, slick bodies dashing and leaping and thrashing among his men. And he saw his men dying. Blaster fire exploded from their rifles as they regained the battle sense drummed into their reflexes. They took their shots with the precision born of desperation and instinct.

Bandon released his fury with a battlecry and launched his body high above the floor of the trench. He arced over his squad and landed behind them, a thirty foot leap which took no effort from his powerful muscles. A torrent of movement surrounded him, and he saw them for what they were, wiry white skinned things, hunched over like old men. But they moved like quicksilver, sometimes leaning forward to run on all fours. Ragged bushes of white hair crowned their oblong skulls, and their faces gleamed with two shining eyes over a set of jagged and curved teeth.

And they gibbered with hunger; hunger for living meat!

"Abominations!" Bandon howled furiously, whirling in a circle. His lightsaber blazed and hummed as it sizzled cleanly through muscle and bone. Bodies fell around him, burned in half. Limbs plopped to the ground, smoking.

Bandon continued his spin, thrusting forth his palm. His will gusted forth, his thoughts tickling at the caress of the Force. The energy of the Force shuddered through his body and leapt forth in an unseen explosion, hurling two of the creatures away from his right side. One of them landed on a sharp girder protruding from a pile of junk. The other bounced off the floor and hopped eagerly back at him.

"Watch your fire!" Saar cried, blasting away with his long, slender carbine. "Check your targets, men!"

Bandon had to admire Saar's obvious tenacity and clear thinking. His training shone beautifully. But ultimately, it availed the soldier not at all. Clawed hands crashed down on Saar's shoulders, heaving him to the ground. One of the creatures pounced upon his chest in a crouch and opened him up from throat to groin with its long black talons. Saar screamed like woman before he died gurgling up bright blood.

Bandon saw his men fall in mere seconds. A crack, elite squad of men, downed in a wet red flash. Bandon lowered his lightsaber for a second as the creatures turned to face him. Most huddled over the bodies, tearing through armor and into flesh with their dirty teeth. They stared at him curiously, eyeing his lightsaber warily. And then, he saw in their gleaming eyes the distant thread of human intellect. They were sizing him up! Trying to determine if his flesh was worth the danger he posed.

They made their decision.

Slowly they began to advance, crawling over their brethren who were still feasting on warm bodies. Bandon closed down his lightsaber and smiled at the monsters grimly. He gave a short bow from the waist and spun on his heels. He ran, calling on the Force to become a blur of pure speed.

Lal froze as she heard the distant scream. It warbled on a for a long moment before it was shredded into silence. She crouched in the gloom of the Undercity, pressing against Carth in front of her. The vibroblade she wore on her belt dug into her hip painfully, but her muscles were iced over. Carth glanced back at her, wearing the darksight visor she'd picked up for him. Concern wrinkled his brow, but Lal didn't even want to whisper out an explanation.

"Maybe this was a bad idea," Mission moaned softly, clinging tightly to Lal's arm. Zaalbar shushed the girl with a snarl. He knelt at the rear of the bunch, tasting the air in great huffing gulps with both tongue and his sensitive nose.

"It was a bad idea," Carth whispered, a cold sweat beading his brow, "for you to come along, kid. What the hell was that anyway? Rakghouls?"

Lal swallowed a thick dry lump in her throat and shook her head. "A man. Having a bad dream, I'd imagine. We should move quickly." She lowered her eyes to her wrist-mounted computer, which displayed a scrolling graphic of a century-old map of the Undercity's sewers. She pointed down a broad corridor that dripped with brown water. Carth nodded stiffly and the four of them moved as silently as possible down the tunnel.

Lal had long since given up trying to pry her arm from Mission's desperate grasp. It had probably been a mistake to bring Mission along. The youthful Twi'lek had begged to go along; she didn't fancy the thought of being left on her own with all the Sith pouring through LowCity. Lal told herself they needed Mission's knowledge of the Undercity, but knew that was a lie. She…she just wanted to keep the girl close by.

Carth initially had not objected, seeing the logic in her inclusion. But the fear of dark places had infected him as well, and he was probably thinking that Mission would be a liability in any fight that waited for them. No choice now, though.

Lal had taken the time to guide Mission through the use of the tiny blaster she wore on her hip now. Mission wasn't a half bad shot either. But there hadn't been enough time. And Selli's life was probably being measured in hours. Of course, Mission was finally dressed appropriately enough. She didn't own a single practical piece of clothing. The closest she could come to something that freed her arms and legs for a fight was a short black tunic that left her blue legs bare. She accompanied that with tall boots that hugged her calves and reached up past her knees. Lal had fitted her with a black market armored vest that was about two sizes too large. Mission seemed to sink within its stiff depths. Lal would have given the girl one of her own Slipsuits, but even as tiny as Lal's frame was, her clothes were simply too big for Mission.

Lal stuck with her customary Slipsuit, outfitted with a combat harness loaded with equipment and a few flash grenades. A non-regulated, chopped barrel blaster rifle hung from her back and its stubby weight pressed down against her spine relentlessly. She also carried her two blaster pistols, one holstered in a rig against her thigh and the other nestled against the small of her back. And the vibroblade. It was a short bladed sword fitted into an oscillation armature. The armature made the blade vibrate so swiftly that it became a chromed blur that could cut through orbital grade durasteel.

Additionally, she carried a Randomizer unit, mounted on her belt. It had been the hardest piece of equipment to track down, even with her contacts in the black arms market. When activated, it threw off a field that disrupted the phase of the light waves surrounding her body. The oscillations it created in the visible light spectrum didn't so much make her invisible as difficult to notice. All it really did was play a trick on the eye. It broke up her shape, and if she stood still, she would hardly be noticed by anyone looking.

She'd picked up a bolt-coat for Carth; it was a piece of armor that helped disperse the energy of an incoming blaster bolt ranging between 100 and 1500 tenams intensity. Mostly small arms fire. It wasn't as effective as some of the power shields available to the military, but it was all she could get on such short notice. Carth carried only his twinned pistols and a brace of explosives. He seemed just fine with that.

Zaalbar rounded their little crew out with his customary bandolier and his bowcaster. Aside from a few odds and ends, his Wookiee pride would abide nothing more. Stupid carpet.

Still, each of them was fairly well kitted out, Lal decided. And yet, she felt naked as a baby after hearing that throat-rending scream.

They made their way deeper into the sewers, and Lal and Carth fell into a comfortable pattern of advancing and covering by twos. She latched onto his military precision, and let it sink deep into her reflexes. It helped push away the terror burning in her belly. Soon, even Mission was into it, moving like a well-oiled machine.

After they'd descended a series of rusty, sweating ladders, Lal fell into a crouch to examine her wrist-comp's map again. One of Gadon's boys had specified the route they'd already taken into the sewers and had pointed out the location of the Rancor. But as they moved deeper and deeper in, none of them could comfortably ignore the distant pounding thunder that shuddered up through the metal walls and floors from below.

_Thoom! Thoom!_

Like something hammering in rage against the walls. And it seemed to move about, bouncing along the floors and ceilings from different angles.

_Thoom! Thoom!_

After several hours of walking, Carth called for a halt. In relief, Mission sank to her bottom against a wall. She gasped and shot back to her feet as her bottom touched a viscous puddle. Furiously, she brushed her skirt off, drawing a groan from Carth. Zaalbar rolled his eyes and kept a watch on the corridor behind them.

Carth moved over to where Lal leaned against a wall and stood next to her. "Map check," he whispered.

_Thoom!_

Lal jumped despite herself and nodded with a nervous jitter thrumming through her muscles.

Carth held her wrist-comp up, frowning darkly at the map display. "I think we missed a side passage a ways back," he said. "This is taking too long."

"We didn't miss anything," Lal told him. "This is the fifth sublevel." She pointed to a grimy yellow "5" painted on a nearby wall.

Carth squinted up at the peeling number and walked up to it. He reached up to wipe at the grime that had been smeared over the number. As he wiped, Lal groaned. It was a "6".

"Damn," she muttered, lowering her head.

"It's okay," Carth told her, examining her map again. "I think these sublevels are all built the same…if we take that south door…I think we can cut across and reach the main cistern. We'll be a level lower but…but maybe we can climb up."

"Can someone tell me again exactly why we're headed _towards _the Rancor?" Mission asked, hugging herself tightly.

Zaalbar reminded her with a growl that they had little choice.

Carth nodded. "The Beks said the Vulkars had sealed up the other passages leading to their safehouse."

"And how the heck are we supposed to get past that thing?" Mission asked for the fiftieth time. No one had come up with any real answer just yet.

"We'll work that out when we get there," Carth said, his voice stiff with faked confidence. Lal sniffed it out plain as day. But she didn't mention it. Let Carth cling to his hopes and optimisms. He was welcome to them as far as she was concerned. She might have called him on it, just to mess with him a few days ago. But she had other things on her mind.

She still didn't know exactly why she was here, doing this, risking her life foolishly for others. She still didn't know exactly why she cared so much about a joygirl like Mission. Sentimentality. It tended to get people dead. She'd always harbored some guilt about Selli; about others. But it had never intruded before on simple reason. Not like this. In the three years she'd worked for Davik, Lal had stripped her soul bare of any conscience. It was bad for business.

She didn't really owe Zaerdra anything. Or Carth. And even if she did, she was powerful enough to utterly disregard them. If she wanted, she could have ordered one of her men to kill Zaerdra. She could have sold Carth out to the Sith. Still could, probably.

But even as the thoughts entered her mind, she knew she would never act on them. Knew it for a solid fact. She just didn't know _why_.

"Credit for your thoughts?" Carth smiled hopefully.

She chuckled and waved her hand at him. "You can't afford a credit."

"Maybe you'll spot me, then, hmm?"

"I…I'm just thinking…thinking about…why I'm here. All sweaty and nasty, just to help you."

Carth shrugged and pressed his arm against hers as he stood beside her. "Maybe you aren't here for me. Maybe you're here for you."

Lal turned to stare at him incredulously. "Carth Onasi, where in the bloody hell do you get this material? Does the Republic supply its soldiers with catch-phrases like that?"

"Not officially," he grinned. "The…the man who convinced me to join the Republic armed forces…he told me that. I was just a bush pilot back then, doing trench runs against river pirates. Telos is…_was_…a river-world. Rivers carving through canyons and valleys…beautiful. Mandalorians had set up a base of operations on-world. Running guns through the local black marketers."

"So you decided to become a war hero."

"It wasn't like that. Well, maybe at first. But the Mandalorians were slowly choking off our supply lines. They were doing their level best to drain Telos dry. Our leaders didn't see it. Didn't want to see it. Saying no to a Mandalorian who decides he wants what you got is…well, it's suicide. There were a few of us who decided that the Mandalorians were just gonna turn on us. It's in their nature. And that's what they did. We joined the Republic. Driving hand-me-down Seinar Slipfighters. We were able to force the Mandalorians' hand, and that brought the Republic officially into the fight. Well…as official as the war was back then. It was a cold war for many years, but was pretty hot in a lot of systems like mine. Well, the Mandalorians were sure surprised when the Republic decided to park a few Nebulon cruisers off Telos. Sent 'em running home. In a matter of months, the Republic had a Defense Platform in orbit, and we were officially a member world. That meant our little militia got absorbed into the regular forces.

"I got a commission as an officer," Carth went on. "Sweep-Wings were still technically experimental fighter designs back then. Variable geometry was new back in those days. Me and my unit were the first humans to fly 'em. Telosians were able to adapt to the new control systems more easily, because we were used to flying at a higher level of…I don't know what you'd call it…skill, maybe. But that's where I cut my teeth."

Lal marveled silently at how his eyes lit up like little gems when he spoke of _driving_ a Sweep-Wing fighter. Of flying canyons like a madman. And a rogue thought passed through her mind, wondering what it would be like to let him take her in his strong arms…She killed that thought quickly. This was the man most likely to get her killed.

"You said 'was'," she told him. "'Telos was.' Not is. What'd you mean by that?"

"I…we'd better get going, Lal."

The main cistern was a central shaft, nearly fifty feet wide. It ran down the length of the sewer station; the five levels above them and a bottomless drop far below. Once, all the sewer conduits would have emptied into this central shaft in a torrent of water, hammering downward. Now the conduits each released nothing more than a weak trickle of brown muck, staining the walls with ancient filth. Lal peered down from the ledge they stood on and tried to gauge how far down the shaft dropped before it bottomed out.

_Thoom!_

Lal gasped in shock and the sound sent her eyes questing upwards. "Wasn't it below us before?"

"M-maybe it's moving around again," Mission moaned.

"Sound's playing tricks on us," Carth murmured. "This shaft is hell on the acoustics, I bet." He leaned out onto the ledge and peered around. "There," he pointed, indicating a ladder a few feet off the side of the ledge. He swung out and grabbed it with one hand. He hung there for a moment, half on the ledge and half on the ladder. He held his free hand to Mission. "Come on, honey. Watch out. It's slippery."

Mission stepped into Carth's arm and he hauled her up between his body and the ladder, so she wouldn't fall. Mission scampered easily up the ladder, like a Nirian Snake Monkey. She climbed about ten feet above Carth's head and waited, staring downward. Carth then motioned to Lal. She refused his hand, though.

"Go on. I'm fine," she told him. Carth shrugged and made his way up beneath Mission. Lal waited until Mission started up again before climbing. Lal's boot slipped on the slimy rungs, but she kept her grip. Below her, Zaalbar howled in concern. "I said I'm fine. It's just a bit slippery is all."

Zaalbar shrugged and grumbled to himself. He slung his bowcaster over his shoulder and started up the ladder as well.

"Next level," Mission called out, her voice shaking a bit. She reached out a booted foot to step onto the fifth level ledge.

"Hold on, Mission," Lal called out. Both Mission and Carth glanced down at her. "I'm thinking…what if we keep going all the way to the top?"

"Won't that just take us back to the level we came in at, Lal?" Mission asked.

"No," Lal murmured, glancing at her wrist-comp again. "According to the map, there's a level above the one we entered. Some sort of maintenance station, I think. It doesn't look like it has normal access to the substation levels. I think…I think there's a trapdoor. Hard to tell from this map."

"Well, might as well try it," Carth said. "Maybe we can bypass that monster this way. Mission, stay where you are. I'm gonna climb up above you."

Mission waited as Carth climbed up to her. She leaned off to the side of the ladder to let him by. They all moved upwards then, making the slow and arduous climb to the top. Mission began complaining and moaning halfway up. She was too soft for this sort of thing. They never should have let her come. Zaalbar was a natural climber, as were all the treeborn Wookiees. But his claws found little purchase on the durasteel rungs and soon, he was snarling in frustration.

But as they neared the top, the ladder and walls became drier. It grew easier to hold on to the ladder up here.

"Alright," Carth told them. "The ladder leads right up to a trapdoor. Hold on a sec…" he reached upwards with one hand and pushed on the door. He grunted with the effort and had to heave upwards several times before the door finally opened with a groan. Flakes of rust fluttered down into Lal's hair and eyes.

She pawed at her eyes to clear them, but they started to water and sting. Carth hauled his body upwards, half disappearing through the trapdoor.

"Looks clear," he yelled down at them. "I'm gonna--"

His body jerked upwards suddenly, disappearing entirely through the door.

"Carth!" Lal cried out. She scrambled up towards Mission, to climb past her and reach Carth. Then, Carth's body fell limply through the open door. He slapped into Mission and jarred her loose.

Without thinking, Lal snapped an arm out and slid it around Mission's narrow waist. "Zaalbar! Carth!"

The Wookiee reacted immediately, snatching Carth's leg as he fell downwards. Zaalbar howled as Carth's weight yanked on his arm. Suddenly, blaster fire rained down on them from above. The flutter of energy blasts flickered brightly against the ladder, and Mission screamed as a shot bounced off the ladder by her face.

Lal gasped as a fleck of hot durasteel lanced across her cheek. She squinted against the flash of blasters from above; she counted about three of them, firing down through the trapdoor. It was too crowded for them to get off any accurate shots, but since Lal and the others didn't have any cover or anywhere to go, their lifespan would be measured in seconds. And her hands were full. She clung to the ladder with one hand and held on to Mission with the other. Zaalbar was in much the same position with Carth.

They had to improvise.

"Mission," Lal grunted, "I n-need you to grab the ladder, honey…I need to get to my--"

Mission cried out as another shower of blaster fire screamed down at them. Then the girl nodded at Lal weakly, and reached out to take hold of the ladder. With Mission's weight released from her grip, Lal swung her free arm to her bandolier. She pulled a flash grenade and thumbed the fuse dial to the closest setting.

She didn't think about aiming when she released it. She just closed her eyes and launched it straight up. The grenade sailed through the trapdoor and exploded almost immediately. Lal slithered up the ladder in a sudden burst of speed and hissed through the trapdoor. She whirled around, squinting against the blazing flare of light and heat the grenade emitted. There were three massive figures staggering blindly around her.

Lal dropped low, and unleashed her blasters. She fired on them with cruel accuracy, burning holes into throats and faces. A second later, three bodies hit the deck around her, smoking and burning. Lal remained in a crouch for a second more, her muscles frozen. Her breath leaped from her in sharp ragged gasps as her blood hammered against the inside of her skin. She glanced around the chamber, and saw no other enemies. She noticed an opening to her right; it led out onto some sort of railed walkway into the darkness, but she couldn't see where it led.

After her muscles unclenched, Lal sighed and peered back down through the trapdoor. "Is everybody okay?"

Mission looked up at her and groaned in relief. Zaalbar whuffed and swung Carth's limp Body up to the ladder. "Carth!" Lal cried. "Is he…?"

"I'm fine, Lal," Carth murmured weakly. "feel like my head got run over by a runaway speeder truck is all…"

Relief flooded through Lal's body. She reached down to help Mission climb up. And then the two of them struggled to pull Carth and Zaalbar up to safety. After they were done, the four of them sat panting and sweating on the floor of the maintenance room.

"Okay," Mission gasped wearily, "it's been real; it's been fun; but it ain't been real fun…"

"We gotta keep going," Carth said, pushing himself to his feet. His first attempt was not exactly successful. Lal found herself rushing to his side to steady him. "I'm fine, he protested, weakly pushing her hands away. Lal ignored him and instead focused on the gash upon his forehead.

"Now you have a matching set," she told him, nodded at the bruise still adorning the other side of his skull. She reached into one of the pouches on her harness and pulled out a tiny field medpack. She tore open the silvery seal and cleaned the wound with an antiseptic wipe. Then she cracked the single-use K-Syrette and smeared it across the wound.

Carth sighed and allowed her to work. A grin struggled its way onto his lips as she tended to him. "Y'know, a guy could get used to this," he told her.

Lal couldn't help smiling herself. But she merely finished up on his wound, spreading a liquid bandage across the gash. In seconds, the bandage polymerized in the air and squeezed the wound shut. She pulled away with a sigh as his grin brightened at her.

He pointed to his wound and cleared his throat. "Ah…you forgot one thing: you gotta kiss it and make it feel better."

"Mmm-hmm. Zaalbar?"

Zaalbar held up his shaggy paws and shook his head. He grunted about not wanting to be involved in tawdry human sex rituals.

Mission nodded in commiseration. "They are _so_ uncivilized when it comes to mating." Everyone glanced dubiously at Mission. She flushed pink across her blue cheeks and glanced to the floor. "So I've been told…"

Lal chuckled while Carth just shook his head in amusement. Before Carth turned away, she leaned close on the pretense of giving his cut a final look-over: "Ask me again if we survive. Flyboy."

Glancing down into her eyes in surprise, he nodded. "I'll, uh…I'll do that…"

She laughed softly and drifted over to the opening that led to the catwalk. Mission meanwhile knelt over the three bodies Lal had dropped. She pinched her nose shut and cried out, "Ugghh! Gammoreans! Poo-doo!"

Zaalbar howled in fury and hurled one of the bodies down the trapdoor. He reached for a second body, but Lal rushed over to stop him. "Easy, Zaalbar. They're dead. They won't be hurting anyone else."

Zaalbar glanced down at her, seething with snarls and yowls. She held his gaze until his fury simmered and he released a short nod.

"I don't mean to pry, big guy," Carth told the Wookiee quietly, "but…are you…okay?"

Zaalbar snapped his head around and unleashed a roar.

Carth held up his hands. "Okay, okay. None of my business. I was just…as long as you're okay."

Zaalbar relented and hung his shaggy head. He yowled forth an apology. He glanced at Lal because he did not have the words.

Lal patted the Wookiee's chest. "Gammoreans on Taris are heavily involved in the slave trade, Carth. It's believed they're working for the Vulkars…they go on raids. Villages like the one we saw two nights ago…and sometimes they invade the alien habs in LowCity. It's easy for them to get in because they're…well, aliens. Two years ago…I was in a LowCity apartment ring…on business. I was with a Mandalore named Ordo. He was…ah…watching my back. There were some Gammoreans wrestling a big Wookiee with shock sticks." She nodded her head at Zaalbar.


	6. Chapter 4 part two

"And you rescued him?" Carth stammered. "I'm shocked. Out of the kindness of your heart?"

"Ahem. It was business," Lal explained. "It was an enemy operation in Davik's territory. Unsanctioned, in other words. I tried to explain that to Zaalbar, but--"

Zaalbar interrupted with a short string of grunts that silenced Lal. Redness bloomed across her cheeks and she shrugged. "See what I mean?" she said. "He's an obstinate carpet."

Carth chuckled. "He's right though, Lal. Even if you _did_ do the right thing for the wrong reasons, actions speak louder than words."

Mission nodded and smiled. "That's so…"

"Cliché," Lal cut in. "Wookiees are big on cliché. Anyhow, this just proves the pig-boys are working for the Vulkars."

"Davik would probably shut them down if he knew for sure," Mission observed.

"No Mission," Lal sighed. "Davik would just do an end run around the Vulkars and pay the pig-boys more to work for him instead. He does the _wrong_ thing for the _rightest_ reason of them all: business."

They all absorbed that in silence.

"Well, we uh…we need to get moving," Carth said softly. He headed towards the opening to the catwalk and peered out. "No light. Not even enough ambient light for my goggles. FlikStiks, people."

Everyone except Mission spent a second searching their pockets for their FlikStiks. With a twist, the chemicals inside the tubes crashed together and began shedding weak circles of cold green light. Mission, as a Twi'lek, had a natural ability to see in the dark. Not in complete darkness, but the glow from the FlikStiks provided her enough ambient light to see. The others hung them from belts or harnesses and headed out onto the catwalk.

In the dim light, they all chose their paths carefully, stepping gingerly and softly. But still the metal catwalk creaked and groaned beneath their weight. Along one side of the catwalk was a wall of cold, moist metal. Along the other side, darkness extended beyond the range of their FlikStiks. A thin handrail was all that guarded them against the yawning, stretching dark.

The air that rose up was thick and warm with a stench like sweetened rot; the stink of fruit gone bad, of yeast-sweet decay. But there was something else dwelling within that stink, something Lal couldn't quite pin down.

Mission hissed softly, "What is that--"

Lal grabbed her shoulder before she could say any more. In the dim light Lal put a finger up to her lips for Mission to be silent. Carth signaled a halt and glanced back at Lal and the others with a worried frown. Slowly, he pulled a second FlikStik from his belt, gave it a twist and tossed it over the rail.

It made a dim green sphere of light as it trailed slowly downward into the impenetrable black. As it fell, it cast its weak light across a rocky surface; a monolith composed of jagged humps.

And massive spear-like teeth. And arms as wide as tree trunks.

The figure watched the FlikStik fall with two tiny black eyes; watched it fall between the huge talons adorning its stumpy feet. Then, the Rancor glanced up at the railing and roared hungrily.

Zaalbar roared in alarm and all of them pressed themselves back against the wall. The Rancor's broad, flat head craned upwards to watch them, and viscous drool fell in long glistening ropes from its jagged fangs. It was the largest living creature Lal had ever seen, with flesh like stone and long powerful limbs. Its foreclaws flexed anxiously; a man could easily fit within those huge paws. Its tiny eyes narrowed and it slammed its foreclaws onto the floor. _Thoom!_

"At least we seem to have found a way around the thing," Carth whispered tightly in Lal's ear. "Come on…"

And then the Rancor reached up with a massive claw, tearing apart the catwalk before them as if it were paper. Lal yanked Carth back as he began to slide downwards towards the rent. He nodded gratefully and whipped out his blaster pistols. "So much for that plan…"

The Rancor reached up towards them and they had nowhere to run. Carth fired as the paw came near and the Rancor yowled in rage and pain, snatching its paw back to its chest. The Rancor passed back and forth beneath them, and tried again to grasp at them. Once more, Carth shot the paw as it came close. Again, it drew its wounded appendage back sharply.

Mission and Zaalbar began firing down on the creature, but its thick hide turned aside their shots. "Blasters are only going to make it angry," Lal cried out.

"Like it ain't mad enough already!" Mission protested, continuing to fire wildly down on the gigantic monster. "Maybe if we shot its eyes…"

Lal unholstered a blaster and took careful aim at the thing's huge head. She tracked across its skull with a line of fire that stitched right across one of the Rancor's eyes. It shrieked in agony and clutched at its face. As it writhed in pain, Carth jerked a thumb at the gap in the catwalk.

"I think we can jump it!" he cried. "Go! While it's occupied!"

Lal nodded and shoved Mission ahead of her. Mission stared doubtfully at the gap and shook her head. "Lal, I--" Lal shoved the girl so hard that she almost flew threw the air. Mission screamed and pushed off as Lal shoved her. She slammed face first onto the other side of the catwalk, and picked herself up.

"You next, Lal," Carth said, grabbing her arm and wrenching her forward. Lal easily cleared the gap and landed in a crouch.

Carth jumped across then, and nearly slipped down when he landed. Lal yanked on his jacket, pulling him up to safety. Zaalbar howled fearfully and shook his shaggy head.

"Come on you big carpet!" Lal cried to him.

Zaalbar yelped an insult in reply. But even as he did, he flexed his powerful legs to take a leap.

And the Rancor bashed the wall with a mighty fist, jarring Zaalbar from the catwalk. The Wookiee howled as he fell. He hit the floor and rolled, snarling in pain.

"Zaalbar!" Lal screamed, dashing back towards the rent. Carth grabbed her and held her back.

The Rancor loomed victoriously over the tiny form of the Wookiee. It snatched Zaalbar up and raised him to its jagged, slavering maw. Lal snarled incoherently and shoved her elbow into Carth's belly. He fell back, releasing her. She drew her vibroblade and thumbed the activation switch. With another scream of primal rage, she flung herself over the railing at the Rancor.

In a single motion devoid of any sort of active thought, she landed on the beast's skull and stabbed downward with her blade. The weapon hissed into the soft, pulsing flesh covering its wide nostrils and buzzed and whirred as it chewed through the monster's dense meat. The Rancor howled and swung its head backwards. Lal flew from the thing with a shriek and crashed into the floor behind it.

Zaalbar fell gasping and panting from its claw while the monster raged wildly about. It scraped at its head, trying to dislodge the blade stuck in it, still humming and grinding and tearing. The Rancor staggered backwards, spitting thick, black blood from its nostrils. Lal barely had time to roll to the side as a foot thundered into the floor where she had landed.

Lal!" Mission cried in terror. "Zaalbar! Watch out!"

The creature whipped around in drunken circles, hammering the floor with fists and feet. It slammed into the wall in a frenzy, throwing Carth and Mission from their feet on the catwalk. And still the vibroblade continued to carve away, throwing up wisps of greasy black smoke and gobbets of dark red. Lal and Zaalbar had to dance to avoid the creature's agonized frenzy.

"Damn it," Carth yelled at them. "Get outta there!"

Lal screamed back, "I'm trying!" and as she did, she stumbled over a pile of rotting carcasses. She gasped and fell on her bottom. Zaalbar roared a warning just as the Rancor turned and stumbled directly towards her. Lal scrambled backwards on her elbows, but couldn't move quickly enough. The Rancor slammed its head into the floor right in front of her, jarring her bones with the fury of the impact.

The sword, still stuck in its head, whipped towards her, and on instinct, Lal reached out and grabbed the hilt tightly. As she did, the Rancor stood up again and whirled around, spraying the walls with its blood. Lal clutched the sword hilt desperately, but got jerked and slammed around as the Rancor raged about.

Finally, she was able to plant her feet on the thing's skull. She drove down on the blade as hard as she could manage and felt the blade rip through flesh and meat and gristle. The Rancor jerked sharply, and a spray of blood hissed from the wound, splashing Lal's Slipsuit and cheeks.

As she hung on, she yelled at Carth to toss her one of his grenades.

"Wha--"

"Do it!" she screamed. She had no idea how she managed to catch the plasma detonator Carth hurled at her. Her mind simply wasn't functioning on a level she could understand. But the grenade landed in her palm perfectly. And she felt like a rider in a vehicle shaped like her own body, watching helplessly as she twisted the fuse control with her teeth.

She was moving on pure momentum, without any direction from her will or desire. She watched herself as she yanked the blade free; it had done so much damage to the surrounding meat that it felt like pulling the sword from a pool of water. More blood sprayed across her, this time accompanied by hunks of rubbery matter.

In the space between seconds, Lal rammed the fist holding the grenade into the ragged wound she had carved. And then, she let go. As the seconds caught up with her, as physical law caught up to her, the creature's frenzy hurled her into the wall. She hit hard and slid limply to the floor.

And then, she saw and felt nothing.

Lal dreamed the nightmare once more. She was submerged in it, and couldn't swim to the surface. There, in the watery depths of her mind, she saw a cold dark chamber that opened into the void of space. Standing before the void was a mountain painted red; dark red, the color of old blood. It was a man. Broad shouldered, powerfully built, sheathed in blood red. A heavy cloak spread from his massive shoulders and fluttered in the tides she dreamed.

Slowly, he turned his naked skull, and she saw that he had no mouth. Only a pair of white eyes burning like angry stars. It was him. He had found her in her dreams again. But this time, she could not seem to wake up.

He stared in confusion at her for a moment, his eyes narrowing as if his mind was struggling to recognize her face.

"It can't be possible," he rasped at her, his voice pounding in her skull like metallic thunder. "_You_ are not possible!"

Suddenly, Lal bobbed to the surface, leaving her watery nightmare, leaving the mouthless one in the darkened depths. Her eyes fluttered and she awoke to the fetid reek of a Wookiee's breath. Zaalbar huddled over her, cradling her in his shaggy arms and crooning softly for her to wake up.

Lal coughed wetly, and felt a sharp blade of pain tear through her side. "I'm awake…" she groaned weakly. Zaalbar yelped happily and stroked her hair with his paw. She glanced around for the Rancor, and saw it laying still, a mountain of dead meat, missing a head.

"Lal!" Mission cried from above. Lal craned her head upwards to see the girl and Carth peering over the walkway down at her. "Are you okay?"

"That was one in a million, Lal!" Carth yelled. "Never seen anything like that…"

Lal tried to stand, but the pain in her side clenched down on her body. Zaalbar gently helped her to her feet. She clutched her arm to her side and tried to determine if she'd just cracked a rib, or if it had snapped entirely. Her head swam with the pain, but she couldn't feel anything grinding inside of her.

"Lal," Carth went on, "Me and Mission are gonna double back and find a way to get to you."

"Too risky," she gasped weakly. Zaalbar repeated her words loud enough for Carth and Mission to hear. "There are probably more Gammoreans back that way."

"Well, we can't get down safely," Carth told them. "And I don't see a way for you to get back up here…"

Lal glanced around the blood smeared chamber. Zaalbar pointed out a door at the far end. She saw it and nodded, leaning heavily against his shaggy bulk. "Odds are, there's a door at the end of the catwalk too…You guys keep going, and we'll try to meet up inside…"

"Lal…" Carth called down, "are you sure you're okay?"

She nodded, trying to durasteel herself against the pain. "Zaalbar…we have _got _to do something about your breath. It could wake the dead…"

Zaalbar chuckled and growled that it very nearly had done just that. He bent to retrieve his bowcaster. He also picked up her vibroblade. She flicked it on experimentally. It still hummed along well enough, even though the edge of the blade was scored with chips and nicks and scratches. And it had an odd rattle when she swung it.

"Still all in one piece," she sighed softly, sheathing the blade at her hip. She nodded her head the door and glanced up at Zaalbar. "Let's do this."

The Black Vulkars hadn't thought to put a guard on the door; they figured a Rancor was rather sufficient to the task. They had never imagined in a thousand years that someone would be able to kill the monster. Generally speaking, the only thing that could kill a Rancor was another Rancor. A bigger one. But their pet monstrosity was, in fact, dead, and its killer now hunted the beast's masters.

After the four of them had reunited on a stairwell, Lal decided to use her Randomizer to scout the place out. With any luck, she'd find where they were holding Selli. Lal didn't believe in luck, but accepted it when it was on her side. After she had worked her way through the shadows of the Vulkar safehouse, she had counted only six of them here. Four of them were playing Sabacc. One was in some sort of office, sitting behind a computer console, smoking Pakh. And one was standing guard in front of what looked to be a security door. Every so often, his head bobbed, as if he were drifting off to sleep and snapping back awake.

Her first main challenge was evading the security cameras that panned back and forth in most of the corridors. The Vulkar in the office, a Twi'lek, was probably keeping an eye on those cameras on his computer display. Of course, the more she thought about it, the more and more she began to doubt it. These Vulkars thought no one could touch them. They would never have imagined anyone could get past that pet monster of theirs.

But she had to be sure.

She pressed her commlink to her mouth and whispered into it. "Okay…I count six. I got four playing cards in the central chamber. One half-asleep on guard on the far corridor. And another in a control room. Be advised, we have monitor cameras. I'm going to neutralize the cameras. The rest of you can move up and take out the cardies on my signal."

"Affirmative," Carth replied. "We wait for your go."

Lal shut off her commlink completely. She crouched directly beneath the camera swiveling slowly above her. She waited until she had figured out the camera's pattern and then made a dash as it swiveled away from her path. She ducked around into an alcove and flicked her Randomizer on. Around her, the air turned to liquid. Anyone looking in her direction would see little more than the wall. But from her perspective, it was like swimming in a pool of murky water.

She waited for the camera to swivel away again, and then moved to the door across from her. The keypad showed it was locked, but Lal had developed a bit of a professional familiarity with these sorts of systems. A year ago, she'd been ordered…_get close_ _to a troublesome councilman_. To simply touch him. Davik reckoned that would send the man enough of a message to stop poking into his affairs. She'd spent a week memorizing override codes from several design manuals she'd…_acquired. _It took her a moment to dredge up the stats for this model. A few seconds later, she recalled the master reset code which would send it back into a factory diagnostic mode. She pressed in the numbers and glanced up at the camera. The door hissed open and she slipped inside just as the camera swiveled back towards her.

The Twi'lek male at the computer console glanced up in annoyance, but immediately saw she wasn't one of his men. His lips curled back in a snarl and he reached for a blaster on the console.

Lal was already moving.

He got a hold of the blaster and lifted it up just as her foot crashed into his chest and slammed him backwards over his chair. He thudded into the floor with a gasp while she landed on his desk in a compact crouch. He reached out to grab his blaster and Lal fired herself towards him. She pounced on his chest and he froze in agony. The impact squeezed the air from his lungs and he gasped helplessly as she kicked his blaster away. She rolled him onto his belly and knelt over him, twisting his arm around his back until he cried out.

"I will break this if you offer me a problem," she whispered into the conical bone-plate of his ear.

"Hey…Lal Sideen…heh…no problems…no worries…What are you doing here, huh?"

She twisted his arm further, shocking him into silence. "I ask the questions."

"No problem…you know…that business outside the Daystar…that was…it wasn't me…"

"Kandon, right?" she hissed. "Kandon Ark. I've seen you sniffing around. You used to be an errand boy before Brejik came on, didn't you?"

"I…Brejik just…rewarded his friends is all…"

"Sure. Now I'm going to reward you, Kandon. I want you to give me Selli and I'll reward you with your life."

"Huh? Selli? What do you care about that skag?"

She jerked his arm a bit more and he gasped in pain. "Who's asking the questions here?"

"Hell! You are!"

"Right. Selli. I want her."

"Well, Lal…I…I can't do that…" he moaned, "business and all…"

Lal shoved his forehead into the floor, splintering his nose. "Would you like to try a guess at how difficult it might or might not be for me to do this without your assistance, Kandon?"

"Oh hell…no…okay, okay! Dammit, my nose! Alright, I'll help…just let me up, please, and don't hit me anymore!"

Lal sighed and decided to check him for any weapons. When she was satisfied, she rose and yanked him to his feet. She shoved him face first into the wall and stood back from him with her blaster aimed at his spine. "How many men aside from the other five I've already counted?"

"That's…that's all…how did you get past Fluffy?" he whimpered, bleeding freely from his nose.

"Fluffy?"

"Our Rancor!"

"You named your Rancor…" she shook her head in amazement, "_Fluffy…_Fluffy's not what I'm concerned about, Kandon. I'm concerned about Selli. She's who you should be concerned about too. You have a guard on Selli?"

"I….yes…"

"I want you to have him meet you here."

"Ah…" he murmured, "what should I tell him?"

"Tell him you bloody want to have a chat with him," she snapped.

He nodded weakly and turned to head for the door. She grabbed him by the back of his collar and slammed him into the wall again. "What are you doing, Kandon?"

"I was…I was going to go and…"

Lal rolled her eyes. "Idiots. You Vulkars are idiots, you know that? You dolts simply should not be allowed to take precious air from people who actually posses a bloody clue. Call him from your station, idiot."

"Oh yeah…"

She maneuvered him into his chair and sat down on the table beside him. "And Kandon?"

"Yes?"

"Do you know how many men I've killed?"

"Er…a lot?"

"And I'm not finished. If you screw up, you'll be the next one."

Kandon nodded, his lips trembling. He leaned forward over his computer and pressed a comm-channel button. "Uh…Freesa…g-get up here you…sorry son of a space slug! We need to ch--talk…now!"

"What is it this time, man?" Freesa replied on the comm. "I didn't do nothin'!"

Kandon held Lal's gaze fearfully as he spoke, "Just get up here, dammit!"

Lal nodded and reached over to close the comm-channel. She watched on the monitor as the Vulkar guarding the security door sighed and walked off. A minute later, the door hissed open.

"Hey, Kandon, your door is unlocked and--"

Lal shot him on the stun setting of her blaster. He dropped like a bag of stones. Lal turned her commlink back on and gave Carth the "go."

"Alright, Kandon. Let's move." She hauled him up by his collar and pushed him towards the door.

"Where are we going?"

"Idiot. To Selli. You're going to open the door for me."

Now that she no longer had to worry about anyone watching the cameras, Lal didn't bother hiding from them as she marched Kandon towards the security door. She would have preferred to keep her distance from him of course; if she'd had a credit for every time some amateur pressed a gun into her back only to lose it to her five seconds later, she'd be…well, she was already rather wealthy.

But Kandon, being a rather mediocre variety of scum, didn't have the presence of mind to think about taking her blaster, nor the skill to pull it off without getting burned down. But he still had the temerity to make a run if she didn't keep a short leash on him.

So, she walked him up to the door with her blaster against his spine and her other hand clutching the back of his collar. "Open it," she told him.

He sighed and keyed in the sequence on the keypad. His fingers trembled as he punched in the numbers. The door cranked open and Lal shoved Kandon inside. He stumbled and hit the floor face first, shrieking as his nose grinded against the ground. Lal glanced around the inside of the room before stepping inside. No one waited with a blaster, at least.

But she wasn't entirely prepared for what was waiting.

"Kandon…what have you done…"

Selli's broken and shattered body hung against the wall by a pair of manacles. Slashes and bruises covered every inch of her body. Her face was a pulped ruin of blood. The sensuous, long lekku had been burned. Lal lowered her blaster and went to kneel at Selli's side. As she did so, she realized her mistake.

On the floor, Kandon reached into his boot for a slim little throwing knife. She couldn't believe she'd missed it.

"You stupid witch!" Kandon screamed. "I'll kill you!" He cocked his arm to let the dagger fly. Lal was slightly faster, lifting her blaster and stroking the trigger.

Kandon's face disappeared in a gout of oily smoke and fire. He fell backwards and lay still. His dagger bounced off the wall beside Lal's head. Lal sat there for a moment, her eyes lingering on the dagger. She hadn't thought his aim would be nearly so good. But not good enough. In the distance, she heard blaster fire; Carth and Zaalbar taking out the Sabacc players…

She turned her attention to Selli and checked at her throat for a pulse. Weak and thready. She used her sword to slice through the chains at Selli's battered wrists, and gently lowered the girl to the floor. Selli gasped weakly, opening a single swollen eye to stare at her. "Lal?"

"It's okay, Selli," Lal soothed, pulling out a medpack. "You're going to be alright."

"They…I couldn't st-stop them…they…"

Lal pricked Selli's arm with a Syrette, and looked over the girl's wounds. The Vulkars had had a party. Pulled out all the stops. The girl would be lucky to survive. Heat flooded Lal's muscles, and she imagined herself killing Brejik with her bare hands. He would pay for this. There would be hell to pay.

But she couldn't let Selli die. She had promised.

"Selli…stay with me, honey! Your sister's waiting for you! The Beks are counting on you!"

Selli's eye fluttered open and her throat clenched. "Lal…I'm all…br-broken…I c-can't r-ride like th-this…"

"Selli, you'll be fine. Just let the Kolto do its job. We'll get you to a doc. I know a good one. He'll have you better than new…"

"Don't let Zaerdra see me like this, Lal," Selli gasped. "I d-don't want her t-to know…"

"Selli…you're going to be…okay…"

Selli nodded weakly and tried to smile. But her torn lips didn't work. "You came t-to s-save me, Lal…c-cool…"


	7. Chapter 5

5: Season of Pain

The Hidden Beks' main headquarters crouched in what used to be a loading bay complex. A few hundred years ago, before the UpCity had risen so high, ships would dock in a massive underground bay. In those days, the Loop had been one of the main attractions of Taris; a massive urban center where races had co-mingled by the millions. Of course, it had all been built over, now. It was all shrouded in the shadow of chrome and progress. The landing bays had closed down, to be ruled by rust and ruin.

The bays now served as a stronghold for the gang; a place to flop, to park their swoops and speeder bikes, a place to play. But there was no play tonight. Three hours ago, Lal Sideen had staggered in with Selli's limp body. She had been swamped by Beks, trying to see if the girl was alive or dead. When Selli managed a weak smile at her sister, Zaerdra had taken her from Lal and they had left Lal and her companions to wait in an abandoned office.

Through the shattered window of the office, they could see down into the first floor of the complex where Beks hustled about frantically, trying to crowd into the door of a side chamber where a doc tended to Selli. Carth stood at the window, staring down at the floor below. He propped his hands on his slender waist and frowned darkly. Zaalbar howled about being hungry and glanced from Carth to Lal. The Wookiee settled his towering bulk on the corner of an old desk. It creaked warningly beneath his furred bottom. Mission drifted to Lal's side, noticing her pain. She helped Lal sit down in a torn up couch against the far wall.

"You look hurt, Lal," Mission murmured as a scowl of pain flashed across Lal's face. Carth glanced over with concern creasing his brow. Lal bit her lip and tried to force the pain in her side to disappear. She pushed Mission's hands away and shook her head.

"I'm fine, honey," Lal told the girl.

"She's right, Lal," Carth told her as he drifted over to kneel before her. He laid a hand on her knee and smiled warmly at her. "You might have cracked a rib when that monster tossed you. Got anymore medpacks?"

Lal squeezed her eyes shut in annoyance, but nodded. She reached to the pouch at the rear of her belt, but the effort hurled a dagger into her side. She froze with a sharp gasp, her hands clenching. Carth sighed and got the medpack from her belt.

"You're gonna need to take it easy, Lal," he told her. He tore open the seal and dumped the compressed contents out onto the couch beside Lal. "Alright. Take your shirt off."

Lal opened her eyes and glared sullenly at him. "Excuse me?"

He stared right back, earnestly, defiantly, into her dark eyes. "Listen, I need to see how bad it is."

"I'm…fine…" she growled through clenched teeth.

"The hell you are, lady," he chuckled, unfolding a bandage wrap between his hands. "Now take the shirt off. You don't have anything I haven't seen."

"The shirt doesn't come off," she hissed back.

"Lal…"

"It doesn't come off!" she snapped loudly. "It's a one-piece! Besides, I…I not wearing…I don't have anything …on…underneath…" Her face reddened as a smile drifted over his lips. "And I'm not giving you a free show."

Carth lowered his eyes and shook his head. "You're a stubborn woman," he sighed. He pushed to his feet and glanced at Mission. "Mission, maybe you could…help her out?"

"I don't need Mission's help," Lal protested with a snarl. "And I am not stubborn! I will be fine. Nothing's broken."

"That's why you're so damned pale, huh?" Carth grunted down at her. "Because you're fine?"

"I'm pale because I live and work underground, Carth."

"Unbelievable. Zaalbar, maybe you could talk to her?" Carth asked.

Zaalbar opened his mouth to bark at Lal, but she pointed at him angrily; "Shut up, Carpet. I don't wanna hear it." Zaalbar glanced back at Carth and shrugged his massive shoulders helplessly. Zaalbar fired off a disparaging series of grunts and growls under his breath and stepped out of the office onto the staircase outside it.

Mission perched atop the desk and folded her legs beneath her. She began picking absently at a bootlace while thoughts painted themselves across her smooth, pretty features. Lal stuffed down an urge to tell Mission to sit a bit more _ladylike_. There was still too much of the girl in the young woman.

"So we just sit here and wait?" Carth asked, cocking his hips to one side. Lal watched him through heavily lidded eyes and decided she liked the way his hips moved. She could explain to him that they had to wait to see if Selli would live. She could explain that everything in his plan depended on that simple question. Or she could just watch him move when he was angry.

Lal found that she could learn who a man truly was when he was battered and beaten by frustration. A man's guard fell when control was taken from him; when the outcome was made suddenly uncertain. When all that he was or wanted or needed depended on the whim of fate. Or the will of another.

"I feel like I should be doing something," Carth went on, pacing back and forth before Mission. He stopped abruptly and waved a hand sharply through the air. "I don't like this."

Lal could sense that for herself; the way his dark brown eyes flicked back and forth beneath a deeply furrowed brow. He folded his arms across his chest and continued pacing. His hard boots made a little patina on the broken tiles of the floor. The light streaming into the office painted his chiseled features into a portrait of quiet desperation. He was trying…trying so hard. And with every effort, he staggered closer to the edge.

Lal decided that he was about to break. She didn't know how it would happen; it was different for every man. Some broke into bags of bubbling, whining despair. Others snapped when they broke, leaving painfully sharp edges that slashed anyone who came close. And some, when they broke, they simply folded themselves into quiet huddles, waiting for—_needing_—a woman's touch. Something gentle but strong to bring order back to chaos.

He would be vulnerable. Soon she would…

Lal stopped herself, stopped her thoughts. She had slipped back into the thoughts of the Assassin; the Seductress. The Predator that saw others as little bits of interesting meat. She closed her eyes tightly and pushed her head back against the ragged cushions of the couch. She didn't want to be the predator now. Not now. She couldn't be the predator now.

Well, she _could._ But did she want that?

"D'ya think Selli'll make it, Lal?" Mission asked in a tiny voice, her bright blue eyes aimed at the floor.

Carth stopped his pacing and turned a glance out the window of the office.

"I don't know Mission," Lal said, looking at the Twi'lek with slitted eyes. A dull, cool fire coughed to life inside Lal's chest when she recalled Selli's broken, tortured body. "I just…don't know." She sat forward with a twinge of pain, and the fire inside her grew hotter. Suddenly she realized why her thoughts had drifted towards predator, towards assassin. She was already planning the ways she would hurt Brejik.

"Mission," Carth said quietly, "Selli is…pretty badly beaten. I…I take it you and she are friends?"

"No…not really, I guess," Mission murmured. "I mean, yeah…we sorta were…It's hard being friends with other girls when you're a…a slave. It's kinda different. Deeper than friends. But not really friends…at the same time. Y'know?"

Carth's arched eyebrow showed that he didn't know.

Lal sat up and stood, moving over to Mission. Silently, she reached out and began to unfasten the armor vest she'd given to the girl. Mission allowed Lal to strip the heavy thing from her. Like a child. Lal removed the heavy vest and laid it aside. Mission's lekku coiled over her shoulders almost in an effort to hug herself. Lal leaned against the desk beside Mission, and laid an arm across Mission's narrow shoulders. The girl leaned against Lal's body and began to cry so silently that Lal almost didn't notice. Lal pressed her head against Mission's and patted her shoulder.

Carth watched the affection drift between both women and sighed a bit uncomfortably. As with most men, he didn't have any words to make it all better. And he was incapable of doing anything to make things right. Lal watched him still.

"Mission…" Carth began forcing confidence into his voice, "I'm sure Selli will…will be okay."

"But…you d-don't know," Mission said, sobbing softly.

Carth sighed once more and lowered his eyes. "No. No, I don't know. But sometimes, you just have to hope. Have faith. Sometimes, it's the only way to get by."

Mission was about to open her mouth to fire off a reply, but thought twice about it. She closed her mouth and lowered her eyes. "I hope Selli makes it…"

Lal gave Mission a squeeze and flickered a brief smile at Carth. Some men, she realized, when they reached their own private edges gave no thought to their own predicaments; rather, they thought only of the edges others treaded. That was the version of man Carth was. Lal was glad for that, for seeing that. But she was also disappointed. The predator in her was, at least.

Suddenly, Zaalbar came roaring excitedly into the office, beckoning them with a frantic paw. Lal and Mission leaped from the desk as one, dashing for the door. Carth was a bit slower, unable to make sense of Zaalbar's rushed Shryiiwook. But he figured it out and followed them down to the main floor.

Selli lay sleeping as Zaerdra and Gadon stood on one side of the bed. On the opposite side, Dr. Forn stroked his white beard thoughtfully, staring down at the young woman. Lal and the others hovered at the door, peering inward. Lal kept an arm around Mission's shoulders.

"She's not out of the woods yet," Zelka Forn told them all. "She's gonna need surgery. Some internal bleeding. I'd prefer to do it in my clinic, but moving her, with all the injuries she's sustained…"

"Is she going to be okay?" Zaerdra asked, her face stained red with all the crying she'd done.

Forn pursed his lips tightly together. "I believe she'll come through it okay. She's a strong young woman. She's already survived these injuries…the surgery won't be a difficult. But I'm going to need to do it here. No later than tomorrow. And I'm going to need a number of things from my clinic. No questions, no obstructions."

"Whatever you need, Doc," Gadon assured him. "We're grateful…in your debt already."

Forn shrugged. "Friends help friends. It's that simple." He turned and glanced coolly at Lal. His demeanor frosted over immediately. For Lal, it was no mystery why he disliked her, even though she'd never brought any harm to his door. "Interesting company you keep, Mr. Theck."

Lal released a sigh and stepped out of the room. Zaerdra caught her out of the corner of her eye and hastened after her. She caught up with Lal outside the room, calling her name.

Lal turned slowly steeling herself for another confrontation with the woman. "Yes, Zaerdra. What is it?"

"I…" Zaerdra's pale green eyes dropped to the floor and she licked her lips. "Umm…I just wanted to…to thank you…for saving my sister. I know that…you had no reason to risk your life…for hers…and I'm…well, I was wrong. Wrong about you."

"No, you were right about me, Zaerdra," Lal told her. "But…perhaps things change."

Zaerdra nodded thoughtfully, wringing her hands nervously before her. "Things do change, I suppose. The things I've said to you…I had no right. I know that you've…you've helped us out. But, I was too angry…I blamed you instead of…"

Lal stepped forward and laid her hands on Zaerdra's shoulders. She locked her gaze upon Zaerdra's own. "We each have our burdens we must bear. Sometimes the weight is too much to be carried alone. Other times, it's light enough that…that we can sometimes carry the burdens of others."

Zaerdra nodded again, and smiled. "Will you accept my apology?"

Lal realized what it must have took for such a proud woman as Zaerdra to ask an enemy for forgiveness. Lal wondered if there was any need for them to be enemies anymore. "No need," she told Zaerdra. She felt a wave of unbidden emotion sweep over her and she stuffed it down. Too much sentimentality. But even so, she felt better. A smile danced on her lips, one matched tentatively by Zaerdra. Understanding arced between the women like electricity. Zaerdra nodded and drifted back into the room with her sister.

Carth left Mission and Zaalbar inside and came out to join Lal. She glanced over at him as he moved beside her. His eyes quested over the faces of the Beks, and a heavy sigh wracked his body.

"You know," he began, "you're never what I expect, Lal Sideen."

"That's because I'm _mysterious_, Carth Onasi."

He glanced over her with a measuring gaze, trying to figure her out. "You are a mystery. I…this was a good thing…what we did. What you did…"

"Don't get used to it. I'm still criminal scum, remember?"

He chuckled and nodded. "That's right. I'd forgotten. I'm completely sure you have your own nefarious agenda, right?"

"More or less. I think we have that in common, Carth. Question is…do I want to be involved in your agenda any more than you want to be involved in mine?"

He was about to reply when Gadon Theck stepped out of the room to join them. "I just wanted to thank you two," he said, glancing sightlessly past their faces. "Oh…uh…I'm not interrupting anything…am I?"

Lal and Carth both turned, and at the same time, said, "No." Lal glanced back at Carth and lifted her chin. He merely arched an eyebrow and nursed a crooked grin.

Gadon chuckled as he watched both of them. "Well, as I said, the Hidden Beks are…in your debt. You've proven yourselves as friends, and the Beks remember their friends. Our earlier agreement stands, of course. And Carth, we'll be willing to provide you whatever help we can against the Sith. They threaten us all. They've proved that with the wholesale slaughter in Undercity."

Carth's eyebrows lifted in surprise. For a moment, he didn't know exactly what to say. "I…well, thanks…"

Gadon nodded and clapped Carth on the shoulder warmly. "Least we can do. This is our fight too, it seems. No one down here believes the Sith will be content to simply limit their atrocities to Undercity."

"What about your race?" Carth asked.

"Well…there don't seem to be any real options there," Gadon admitted with a frown. "We've got some good riders…but Selli was our only _great_ rider. She was the only one of us who could possibly beat Brejik."

"Brejik's going to be riding?" Lal asked.

Gadon nodded. "You know I used to be nova on a swoop rig, but since I lost my sight…well…"

"So, you're withdrawing from the race?" Carth asked him.

Gadon shrugged. "Doesn't seem to be much point in going on with it. Selli's already paid too steep a price. Problem is, we'll still have to wait until after the race to get Bastila."

"Why, Gadon?" Lal asked. "You won't be jeopardizing your position in the race…so why not just go in and take her?"

"Retaliation, Lal," he said. "We wouldn't just be crossing the Vulkars…which I don't care about…we'd be crossing all the gangs. They'd consider it a breech of honor. After the race is still our best shot. Bastila will probably be sold to the highest bidder…and there will be the confusion and excitement of the victory celebrations. It'll provide enough of a distraction that we'll be able to get away clean. In theory."

"I don't know, Gadon," Carth sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair. "I appreciate your candor, but every moment we wait is another moment the Sith have to step in and grab her. By now, I can't imagine this race is much of a secret, right?"

"Hold on a second, Carth," Lal said, thinking predator thoughts.

"Uh-oh," Gadon murmured, watching Lal as she worked her plan out.

"What's _uh-oh_?" Carth asked with a confused frown.

Gadon pointed at Lal's face. "See that look? That's her _I'm coming up with a way to kill you that you will never expect_ look."

"Right, right…" Carth grunted. "And this is a good thing or a bad thing?"

Lal admonished them both with a glare. "Do stop talking about me as if I'm not standing right here, please? Relax, Carth. It's a _bad_ thing. But only for Brejik. I believe I have a way to allow your gang to participate in the race, provide a distraction and get Bastila _during_ the race."

Gadon and Carth shared a worried look. "Okay," Gadon said, "I'm all ears."

Lal smiled wickedly, placing her hands on her hips. "I'll be your racer, Gadon."

Twenty years ago, gang warfare boiled through the streets and corridors of LowCity. The gangs fought tooth and nail for territory rights, and for a hand in the industry of crime. The wars bled over onto the streets, killing civilians, destroying property. And finally, having taken the battle beyond any realm of sanity, one gang detonated a hyperthermal bomb in sector 304. The bomb had been cobbled together in someone's basement. It hadn't been hard to build, actually. Technology had effortlessly placed the most terrible weapon known into the hands of street-lethal teenagers.

The blast had rocked the city-strata, from LowCity to Upcity, and to Undercity far below. A wave of fire and kinetic energy had rolled across a thirty kilometer area of LowCity, advancing at ten thousand kilometers per hour. Ninety thousand humans and aliens reached a body temperature of one million degrees in less than a second. Most of whom had nothing to do with any gangs or any turf battle.

Now, in order to avoid the bloodshed, the retaliation, the escalation, the LowCity gangs raced their swoops. They held their race in the wasteland of twisted, molten durasteel, of blackened, shattered corridors known as the Pit. The Pit was thirty square kilometers of nightmare. When the bomb had detonated, it had pushed out a shockwave that wrenched apart corridors and tunnels and dislodged mountains of jagged debris. The heat coursed through less than a second afterwards, so intense that it caused durasteel to bend and warp. It fused the debris and torn metal and shattered bones into a frantic fever dream of death and madness. It was now an obscene wonderland scattered with unnatural canyons of fused durasteel. It still burned with radiation, causing the twisted walls and rugged channels to glow a livid, angry blue.

It was the perfect place for a race.

Wild eyed swoop jocks saw the deadly terrain as an extreme challenge. It was a badge of honor to tear through the Pit in little more than a repulsorlift turbine, control vanes and a seat. Only the elite undertook the nightmare course. The radiation was scoffed at by the vets of the run; in truth, it was dangerous to walk through, no doubt. But screaming through at something under five hundred kilometers per hour, a rider wouldn't catch enough rads to provide a lethal dose. It was still dangerous, of course, so every racer had to undergo a full set of myranthin shots; it kept the radiation from settling into the body tissues.

Since the races had begun, the galactic net had taken an interest. It was one of the most extreme courses in ten sectors. Often, riders went on to compete in the professional circuits on Manaan, Devaron, Bimmisaari and even Coruscant. Holovid remotes had been set-up in the Pit to cover each leg and wild turn of the course.

Of course, it was dangerous. Aside from the unique dangers posed by the terrain alone, no rules existed to moderate ambitious competitionMany riders crashed and burned, broken up and bloodied. And that was the reason for the vid cams. Blood equated roughly into ratings. It was outlaw racing at its best.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Mission groaned, watching as Lal dressed in a blue and silver Slipsuit, showing Bek colors.

Lal rubbed her arm where she had been inoculated against radiation exposure. Welts had bulged beneath the skin, and her flesh now carried a yellow stain like an old bruise. Gingerly, she tugged her suit sleeve over the aching patch of skin and pulled the suit hood over her head. Mission helped her pull her brown ponytail through a hole in the back of the hood. The cowl pressed closely against her skull, exposing only her face.

"Try not to worry, Mission," Lal said, shouldering into a stiff armor vest painted blue with silver lightning bolts streaking down the surface. "This is what I apparently used to do before I came to Taris."

Mission helped Lal seal the fasteners of the vest and shook her head. "I don't wanna be a nag, Lal, but Davik rescued you from a speeder _crash_. And it ain't like you remember any of that, right? Maybe that should be a hint, huh?"

"Helmet," Lal replied.

Mission groaned and handed Lal the chopped-top helmet Selli had used. It only came down just below Lal's ears, and with the face plate up, it looked more like a hat than a helmet. It wasn't there for safety anyway; no helmet would protect a rider who flamed into the ground at five hundred kilometers per hour. It was more for style. And protection from the other riders.

"Lal, in the three years you've been on Taris, have you ever even ridden a swoop?"

Lal fastened the chin strap of her helmet and turned to smile warmly at Mission. "Honey…shut up, okay?"

"Why are you doing this? You could completely get killed! Or worse! If you--"

"I don't need to win, Mission. It's not even on my mind. All I need to do is make Brejik _lose._ Now, come on. Walk me out to my rig, okay?"

Lal and Mission strode side by side out from the locker room designated for Bek use. She flipped her face shield down as they passed down a narrow set of stairs. A crowd of Bek technicians huddled at the base of the staircase, making last adjustments on the swoop rig and monitor equipment she'd be using. They parted for her, staring curiously as she walked past. Their faces seemed so young, so innocent. In their eyes, she saw herself reflected; a spectre, some sort of living ghost. They feared the demon that was Lal Sideen, but they also had some sort of distant yearning hope; some belief that she'd use her terrible power in their cause.

Such as it was.

She wasn't doing this for them. Good as the Hidden Beks may have been, she didn't feel inclined to do this race just to give them an edge on street crime.

She did a visual check on the rig hovering before her. It literally was little more than a seat attached to a repulsorlift engine. The basic frame was wrapped inside a sleek catamaran cowling; the control vanes were sheathed in twin arrow-like protrusions that swept forward of the recessed cockpit. The engine and thrusters bulged behind it, and hung naked beneath the curved cowling at the rear. The seat sank down into the chassis, but only partially. Her shoulders and face still were exposed. And there was no windshield to deflect the roaring air. Her helmet would have to suffice. She leaned over the top of the cowling and peered inside the cockpit; she was pleased to see her blaster pistol and vibroblade neatly tucked in with the control surfaces.

An Ithorian Bek stumped up to her, nodding his oddly curved, hammer-headed skull at her. One of his mouths opened and his began speaking to her in booming, heavily accented Huttese. He explained once more that the racers maneuvered to the starting line in clusters of three. Swoop positioning was based on trial runs performed two weeks ago. Selli had placed well during the trial; Lal would be starting in the second cluster. Brejik was in the first, but she reckoned she could catch up to him easily enough.

Lal nodded her understanding to the Ithorian and snapped her face plate down. She smiled beneath the face plate at Mission; no one else was there to see her off. Carth, Zaalbar and the others were elsewhere, waiting to storm the control room. Waiting for her diversion.

She was ready.

She vaulted into the seat. It was little more than a cushioned bar that she straddled. She pulled a crank and it cantilevered her body forward, lowering her wind profile, and shoving her face close to the tiny cluster of display panels huddled within the cockpit. Her hands reached out to grasp the control rods; the handles swiveled freely in her fists; buttons studded the handles, and with a flick of her thumbs she could brake or accelerate. Her feet found the pedals that would shift gears. She reached down and flicked the commlink relay. Static flickered in her ear, but cleared as she switched to the secure channel Carth had reluctantly programmed for them to use.

Lal twisted the handle on the right control rod and the thrusters cut in, blistering the air below and behind the rig. She swung laterally away from the technicians and then gusted forward slowly. She glanced at Mission and nodded. And then, she coaxed the roaring swoop down a narrow channel to her starting block.

As the other rigs maneuvered into position around her, Lal kicked the rig into neutral and goosed the throttle. The rig screamed anxiously, and sent a humming harmonic vibrating along the pointed control vanes.

To her right, the Kankar rider shouted incoherently at her over the roar of their engines. Beneath his facemask, he leered at her. She had no idea what the idiot was saying, but it was probably disparaging in some manner. She wondered what tricks he was carrying onboard. Wondered if she'd have to kill him.

She shut his yelling out as a set of lights flipped down from the ceiling. Only the red light at the far left shone. But then, the amber light in the middle beeped on. Lal twisted the throttle open with a roar. The other two rigs did the same, filling the corridor with shrieking thunder. When the green light beeped on, Lal kicked the rig back into gear and the world before her disintegrated into a gray and brown blur.

The corridor before her leaped towards her. Her rig screamed as she tore a burning channel through the air. The corridor curved out in a long gentle turn, leading downwards towards the Pit. Lal caught a glimpse of the Kankar rider's rig gusting slightly ahead of her. He was glancing over at her every few seconds, wagging his tongue at her.

Twit.

Lal leaned into the turn and downshifted as the throttle redlined with a growl. She blasted out of the mouth of the tunnel with both rigs in her cluster close behind. She paid them little mind as a jagged mountain of molten durasteel loomed in her path. She leaned left and goosed the thrusters, hopping in front of the RedBlade's rig. Lal ghosted smoothly around the knot of twisted girders and bounced over a hump in the blistered ground. The RedBlade fell in line behind her, allowing her rig to zero out the wind resistance. Smart kid. She glanced to her right to find the Kankar rider, and gasped sharply as she saw his rig bank inward towards her own. He tried to dash against one of her rear panels, to nudge her rig off balance. She matched his speed, though, and let his rig clap against her side panels. Durasteel and polymer ground together and shed a spray of sparks. He bounced away, trying to get an angle on her.

_What'd I ever do to you, laser-brains?_ She wondered. If he did manage to get an angle on her in a collision, he could send her rig hurtling into a spin that would slam her against a wall. Lal was safe running side by side with him, but knew she had to maneuver ahead.

The three of them zoomed into a narrow corridor, with room only to run two abreast. The Kankar took the opportunity to muscle her rig against the far wall. Lal gritted her teeth as she struggled with the controls, trying to keep away from the wall as much as possible. But still, she grinded against the wall, and sparks flashed in the dim light of the tunnel. Lal jammed on the thrusters with her left foot and leaned towards the Kankar sharply. She banged him against the wall and his velocity bled away rapidly. He fell behind her rig, and Lal twisted the throttle open. With a scream, her rig zoomed forward. The RedBlade stayed right on her tail, content to pace himself.

As they neared the mouth of the tunnel, the Kankar rushed up beside her again, pushing his rig hard. But he was so focused on ramming her that he didn't notice how narrow the tunnel squeezed at the opening. Lal sucked in a deep frantic breath and laid the throttle full. She slipped through the opening an instant before the Kankar scraped into the wall. The impact crunched the side panels of his rig and chewed into his lateral thrusters.

Desperately, he fought back to the left, but overcompensated. He slammed into the opposite wall with a boom and a shower of yellow fire. His control vanes clipped the rear of the RedBlade's rig hard, sending it into a flat spin.

As Lal lost both of them, she breathed a sigh of relief. And then screamed as a monstrous heap of shattered metal rose up before her. She hunched down into her shoulders and closed her eyes as she sliced through a narrow opening in the middle of the heap. Vorpal outcroppings dashed against her panels, gouging gleaming channels into the surface of her rig. Sparks jetted out behind her as she cleared the refuse.

"Bloody hell," she cried, leaning forward on the throttle.

Her rig blazed forward into a wide corridor with a low ceiling. It stretched off distantly, the end lost in a glowing blue haze of radiation. Her heart began to hammer inside her chest, and she realized she was passing into the first of six dangerously hot zones. Here, the floor had been chewed to bits, and several large holes opened directly down to Undercity, far below. Inertia would carry her over most gaps, but anything larger than twenty feet would suck her straight down.

She also noticed that in several places, the corridor had been severely warped, as if two great fists had grabbed hold of the corridor and twisted in opposite directions. Wrinkles had been carved into the durasteel walls, and radiation burned within them. Ahead of her, something bounced against a wall and exploded in a crimson and black blossom of flame. Fire coursed across her path, but she burned right through it, closing her eyes. As she blistered forward, she glanced over her shoulder and saw the burning wreckage of a swoop rig. The pilot, set afire, flailed madly and staggered about.

A second later, he was just a bright dot falling away behind her.

Before her, she could see the tail of another rig, tearing swiftly along the wall of the corridor. She squinted in the dark, trying to recognize the rig. But as she did so, she saw a flurry of bright spears flying towards her. Blaster fire! Lal juked to the side, evading the blaster bolts.

When the rigger had turned back to fire on her, he had inadvertently relaxed his throttle. Lal ate the distance between them and reached with one hand to her vibroblade. She thumbed the activation switch as the rigger took aim once more. In a sudden flash of steel, Lal brought the humming sword up and high over her head. She slashed downwards against his rig, just clipping his left thruster. Electricity snapped and popped along the surface of the thruster, and Lal felt an invisible hammer pound her sword arm. She managed to keep a grip on the blade and drew it back in. She pushed the throttle forward as the rig—Silver Vortex—lost lateral control. Lal eased past him as he bounced from one wall, and then crashed into the opposite wall.

He exploded behind her.

She veered up on another fire; another rig downed. This time Lal swung around the wreckage rather than pass through another burst of flame. Her engine redlined with a desperate whine and she downshifted sharply. And then, she saw a wall race towards her.

Panic grasped her thoughts. She yanked back on the throttle, afraid she would crash. But as she cranked down her speed, she noticed several large holes chewed into the wall before her. _Which one?_ She wondered. She had half a second to decide.

She shoved her rig through the hole closest to the curve of the wall, stabbing into a narrow, rounded tunnel. She gasped when she saw the tunnel was so tight that she had only inches to spare all around her rig. And her heart stopped beating when she saw a single girder slicing through the very center of the passageway. Her brain shut down as she aimed her blaster over the hood of her rig. She squeezed off as many shots as she could and closed her eyes.

The girder shattered as each blast carved a hunk out of it. It scraped the undercarriage of her swoop, but Lal made it through. And she blasted out of the end of the tunnel into a vast cistern. Gravity tugged her rig downward, nose first, and she yanked backwards on the control rods. There was no floor here, she realized, only a massive, terrible drop. He rig moaned as the repulsorlifts searched for a surface to push up against. A cry of terror tore free from Lal's throat as she felt the rear of the rig begin to angle too far forward. The rods were as far back as she could yank them, however. She was going to flip over.

Desperately, she stamped on the thruster pedal, jamming it flush with the floor of her rig. She leaned backwards as far as she could. Her swoop screamed and vibrated, but she brought the nose back up. Long seconds passed and her engine floated at the redline the entire time.

When she finally saw the ground surge up towards her, she dialed up the repulsor feedback as high as it could go. Her rig slapped against the ground and Lal's chin bashed against one of her display monitors. Her vision spun for a second before she gained her bearings and saw a ragged channel before her. She swung her rig drunkenly through the opening, scraping against the sides before finally adjusting her course.

Ahead of her, Lal could hear the whine of thrusters bouncing against the walls of the curving tunnel. She threw caution out the back of her rig and zoomed forward. With tiny jerks of her wrists, Lal teased the rig along the curve of the tunnel and came in sight of the rig before her. She could see red thorns painted against the glossy black cowling of the swoop. Brejik.

Lal surged forward on a wave of hatred, and reached again for her blaster. His rig was shaped like a ball, with naked control vanes stabbing forth from it. Brejik sat inside the ball, where it was cut open. She could see his head poke around the curve of the sphere; he wore no helmet, only a crimson bandana whipping in the wind.

_Time to die,_ she thought grimly, aiming for his thrusters with her blaster. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a tiny smudge of black steel arc through the air towards her. Desperation and fear guided her reflexes. She forgot the shot and shoved her rig past the grenade just before it detonated. The explosion lifted the rear of her rig against the ceiling of the tunnel.

Fire spilled over her as her swoop crashed back into the floor of the tunnel. Sparks hissed behind her and she fought with the controls to keep her rig aloft. Debris showered her as the blast sent hunks of the ceiling crashing downward.

Lal forced her rig forward, but felt something wet trailing over her lips. Blood. She could also feel her ears filling with it as well.Lal tried to shake the ringing from them as she zoomed once more within sight of Brejik. Lal could see him glancing back at her as she slid alongside him. He bashed into her and ground against her side panels.

"Well look who it is!" Brejik roared, his voice a tinny hiss above the combined screech of their engines. "Whore extraordinaire; Lal Sideen! Racing for the Beks, I see! I guess Selli was too broken up to make it, huh?"

"Bastard!" she snarled back, fumbling for her blaster. She hauled it towards him and aimed at his face, but he slammed against her rig sharply. The blaster fell from her hand and clattered back across the cowling of her rig.

"Not very sporting, darling!" He chuckled. But one good turn deserves another!" he yanked out a blaster pistol of his own and fired point blank at her.

Desperately, Lal yawed away from him, and the blaster missed her face. But his second shot tore into her and she screamed in agony. Her vest deflected some of the blazing energy, but she glanced down to see a scorched and ragged gouge carved into her shoulder. She nearly lost control of the rig. Her entire arm went numb and pain hammered her thoughts. Dark spots swam before her eyes and nausea splashed over her. Her throat locked up and a vague part of her mind told her she was slipping dangerously close to shock.

By the time her vision cleared, she saw that her rig had jetted out of the curved corridor into a yawning dark space littered with tall, jagged columns rising out of the floor like metal stalagmites. By the grace of some higher power, her swoop had slipped safely past several of these piles of slagged metal. But one hurtled directly towards her now. With a gasp, she jerked the controls and the rig rolled to the left of the tower. An explosion glanced off the surface of the tower, and she saw Brejik still firing back at her.

The columns of molten durasteel offered her some natural cover, but it wouldn't be long before he got in a lucky shot. Lal had to change the odds.

She shoved the control rods to the right and slipped directly behind Brejik's swoop. He tried to lean out of his cockpit to fire on her, but he couldn't get a decent angle. His shots kept going wide. If only she hadn't lost her blaster, she would have a perfect shot. She nudged the rig closer, inching up on his tail. He continued to peek back at her, desperate to squeeze a shot off.

A dizzy curtain fell over Lal's thoughts, but she shook her head to clear it. Gritting her teeth, she slipped to the right and dashed forward, sliding up on Brejik's flank. As soon as she did, he twisted in his seat and fired down on her. Lal cursed as one of his shots sparked across her right control vane. She slipped back in behind him.

Lal immediately tried to slip up on his left, but this time, Brejik braked into a flat spin, and jammed on the emergency stabilizers so that his spin only cut 180 degrees. Shifting furiously on the controls, he reversed his thrusters and flew backwards, facing directly at Lal.

Brejik grinned broadly at her, prideful of his own skill. He aimed his blaster directly at her and fired. He stitched a trail up the front of her rig's cowling, walking his shots towards her face. Lal banked sharply, lifting the edge of her rig to shield against his blasts. His shots sliced into her undercarriage, and her gauges went wild. Lal ignored her display and throttled up beside Brejik's rig.

He snarled at her as she pulled alongside, spraying white smoke from the belly of her rig. Her eyes bulged as Brejik unleashed a new weapon; a slim silver cylinder clutched in his fist. She recognized it deep in her mind, but didn't immediately register the name. He flicked a switch on the cylinder, and a beam of golden light hissed into existence.

Lightsaber.

The weapon of a Jedi Knight. Not as random as a blaster. It was an elegant device, one that did not belong in the hands of a coarse dog like Brejik.

He lifted the weapon high above him, and she heard it scream as it burned through the air. But Lal moved faster than Brejik. She moved faster than anyone she knew.

Her sword flashed and hummed. It carved a shining silver arc through the whipping wind and sliced downward into the control vanes of Brejik's swoop rig. Brejik lost his grasp on the lightsaber as his control vanes fell away from his rig. He screamed as his swoop flipped end over end. Desperately he yanked on his controls, but the mechanisms were utterly severed. Lal watched as he spun in a mad spiral against a wall and exploded.

She tapped her commlink and said a single word, "Go."

And then, red lights flashed across her displays. Something popped and cracked inside the manifold of her rig, and as she struggled with her controls, she wondered if the price might be too steep.

After the charges blew the door inward in a cloud of acrid smoke, Carth and Zaalbar charged into the Race Control station, backed by four of Gadon's Beks, all dressed in stolen Sith armor. Inside, a number of technicians coughed and hacked from the smoke. A brace of thick-necked security types wrestled to unleash their blasters, but Carth cut them down. He scanned the room and saw a bank of monitors, displaying images of fiery crashes in the race. He knew that their attention had been consumed by Lal's efforts on the course, her firefight with Brejik and several other swoop riggers. She was a bloodthirsty woman, he realized, but he found himself hoping that it wasn't her rig on the screens burning down to slag.

The race comptrollers were taken completely by surprise, as Lal had predicted. Also, as she had predicted, they were paralyzed with fear when they saw Sith troopers storming in.

"You've got one chance to live!" Carth snarled at them. "Give us the girl, or face the wrath of the Sith!" he aimed one of his blasters at the nearest tech. "You! Where is she?"

There was a pause as the comptrollers flicked their eyes back and forth between Carth and Zaalbar and the Sith flanking them with guns drawn. In that moment, Carth feared the illusion would crumble, but the Wookiee leaned forwards and released a thundering roar in the nearest comptroller's face.

"I…I…I…"

Carth dashed forward and grabbed the young man around the collar. He shoved his blaster against his throat and hissed, "I won't ask a second time…"

"I'll tell you!" a girl cried out. "Just don't hurt us!"

Carth nodded at her. "Wise choice." He glanced at Zaalbar and the _Sith_. "Hold position here."

One of Gadon's boys had to stifle a laugh. But they all nodded in a sloppy approximation of Sith discipline. Carth groaned inwardly. This was going to have to go quickly, before the illusion shattered. Before anyone realized his blaster had only been set on stun…

The girl led him into a back room, glancing nervously at him. She keyed in a combination to unlock a heavy security door. It slid open, revealing a chamber filled with various treasures collected as entry fees by all of Taris' gangs. Carth's gaze drifted past the stacks of stolen platinumware, of custom-made slicer mastercode-cards. He saw only the woman trapped in a glowing stasis field in the center of the room. Anger surged over him when he saw that Bastila had been stripped of her Jedi robes; she wore only her underclothes, like some slavegirl.

Carth aimed at the control panel near Bastila Shan's feet and fired. Sparks flew from the panel and the stasis field flickered and disappeared. Bastila's limp body collapsed to the floor and Carth rushed to her side. He cradled her in his lap and gently shook her.

"Bastila," he whispered into her face, "come on. We've got to go. We don't have a lot of time…"

She moaned softly and her head lolled in his arms. Frowning, Carth smacked her cheek. Her brow furrowed but she did not open her eyes. He slapped her again, a bit harder, and this time, her eyes snapped open. Her gaze rolled towards him and her body tensed.

"Do not touch me!" she cried, shoving at his hands in a sudden panic.

"Bastila," he said, struggling against her, "it's me. Carth. Captain Onasi. I'm here to rescue you!"

"Captain," she grunted, glancing around. She fought to regain her senses and nodded weakly, laying a hand upon his shoulder. "Of…of c-course, Captain…where are we, again?"

"In a bad place, Commander Shan." He helped her to her feet, but she leaned heavily on his arm. "We've got to move. Do you need me to carry you?"

"I…certainly not, Captain. I c-can manage on my own…"

He hustled her back towards the control room. Zaalbar saw them and bellowed an impatient roar.

"I know," Carth fired back. "We're leaving."

Bastila stiffened in his arms as she saw the Sith. "Carth!"

"No…don't…they're friends…I'll explain later. Right now, time is a factor."

Carth led them out of the control room amidst stunned gazes of technicians, and slipped down a corridor. They ducked down a side passage and dashed into the room where they'd made their entry. A young female Bek held the position with a blaster rifle larger than she was. She grinned at them and covered them as they all slipped into a cooling duct. Carth helped Bastila into the duct and realized he had been holding his breath. Zaalbar urged him forward with a bark, and Carth crawled inside the duct. When Zaalbar struggled in behind him, Carth felt a grin on his lips.

They'd done it.

They were home free. But his smile soured and fell apart as his thoughts drifted towards Lal once more.

Mission watched the finish line beside Gadon and several Bek technicians. She hugged herself tightly, her heart pounding in her chest. Several racers had crossed the line in the past twenty minutes. The Ubari Devils had taken first place, screaming across the line with flames gusting from their rig. Six more rigs had either burned or zoomed or sputtered across the line since then.

Mission had watched the holo-vids closely, and saw almost every bit of Lal's battle with Brejik. Even now, she could hear the announcers remarking in startled Huttese about the violence of this year's race. At least three racers had crashed and burned by their count. And several more remained unaccounted for.

Lal was one of them.

The Ithorian chief rig tech lowered his blunted skull and rumbled in dismay. He shook his head as he spoke. Mission glared over at him, and balled her fists up.

"You be quiet!" she screamed. "You don't know what you're talking about!"

Gadon laid his hands upon Mission's shoulders gently. "Mission…She did what she had to do…it's…maybe it's time to go…"

Tears burned in Mission's eyes as his words sank into her skull. She shook her head and buried her face in Gadon's chest. She didn't want to accept it. Didn't want it to be true. Lal Sideen might have been a cold-blooded killer to some, but she had been good to Mission. And it was a goodness, a kindness Mission hadn't known since her brother had gone away. Lal was hard, but there had been a softness to her at the same time. And Mission found it comfortable.

Now that Lal was gone…

The announcers suddenly began chattering excitedly on the vids. Mission and Gadon whirled around just as a rig came scraping across the finish line. A gout of flame coursed from the rig's undercarriage, and smoke trailed behind it. The rig lost power and slammed into the ground. A shower of sparks flew up as it skidded to a halt. Technicians sprayed the rig down with thick flame-retardant foam, and several techs in rescue suits lumbered forth to pull the rider from the burning mess.

"I'll be damned," Gadon hissed, his artificial eyes clicking and whirring.

Lal pulled herself from the wreck and threw her helmet off. Rescue techs grabbed her to hustle her away from the rig, but she shrugged them off. She quickly reached back into her rig for something and then stumbled away.

"Lal!" Mission cried. "You made it!" She sailed into Lal's arms, hugging her tightly. Lal glanced down at Mission and stroked her shoulder with a free hand.

"Of course I made it, Mission," she gasped weakly. Gadon and the other Beks rushed over, holding Lal up as her knees buckled.

"I don't believe it," Gadon grinned at her, giving her a kiss on her lips.

"Oh, hey Gadon," Lal murmured. "Had to stop off to pick s-something up. D-Did I win?"


	8. Chapter 6 part one

6: Well Met in LowCity

The dream.

Bastila knew it was a dream; she'd had it enough times. But she couldn't escape the feel as her muscles shuddered under the clash of lightsabers. Darth Revan drove her back, and hurled her to the deck with a savage blow that jarred her golden lightsaber from her hands.

Jana dashed in, blocking Revan's next strike with her own blade. Revan snarled in fury and kicked young Jana in her face. As Jana stumbled back, Revan opened her belly with a cross slash. Reeno screamed as his sister dropped to her knees, intestines spilling across the deck. Revan whirled on him and thrust forth an open palm. Reeno was blasted from his feet by an unseen gust of Force energy. He slammed hard against the deck and lay still.

"Why do you resist, Bastila?" Revan growled. "Fighting me is futile! Our destiny awaits us! Join me!"

"Never!" Bastila cried, sitting upright.

She glanced around, heart pounding wildly. She lay in an unknown bed in a place she did not know. She struggled to control her heartbeat with a breathing exercise, and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she extended outward with her senses. A large number of young men and women cavorted happily in rooms beyond hers. They were at ease, relaxed; but excited at the same time. Some sort of party, she suspected. Briefly, she wondered if she was still in the custody of those violent thugs calling themselves the Black Vulkars.

But then, she sensed Carth Onasi's presence among them. He did not participate in the celebration, but sat apart, his sobered thoughts dwelling on something…something that felt very familiar…

Bastila threw the sheets from her body and swung her bare legs over the edge of the bed. A glass of water waited for her on a table. She drew it towards her with her will, and it zipped into her hand. It scraped away the dryness caking her lips and throat. Bastila drained the entire glass with a gasp and breathed in deeply.

She also noticed her lightsaber sitting on the table as well. But the Vulkars' leader, Brejik had taken it. How had it arrived here?

Bastila stood and took her lightsaber. It felt warm and comfortable in her grasp. Confidence surged through her body, and she glanced around for some sort of clothing. Nothing presented itself to her, however. Annoyance chewed at her thoughts as she wrapped the sheet around her. It wouldn't do for her to go trouncing about in her underwear, after all.

With her weapon in hand, she stepped out of the room and locked onto Carth's presence. In the corridor outside her room, she very nearly bumped into a young Zabrak girl carrying a bundle of dun colored clothes.

"Oh!" the girl cried in surprise. "I didn't know you were awake. Gadon told me to bring you something to wear. I don't know if this stuff'll fit you, but it's better than running around in your panties, right?"

"Er…yes. Yes of course." Bastila took the bundle of clothes and hoped they weren't anything like the positively scandalous outfit the girl wore. Bastila held the long tabard across her body, examining it. It covered her modestly enough, she supposed. Though it left her legs bare…"Er…excuse me, perhaps you could tell me…exactly where am I?"

"Oh yeah," the girl grinned. "You're with the Beks. We totally rescued you from Brejik! You're safe with us. No worries."

"Rescued," Bastila murmured sourly. "Brilliant. Um, fine then. Uh…could you…I'd like to speak with Captain Onasi if you please."

"Who? Do you mean that dreamboat Lal brought in? He's a complete honey, even though he's older than dirt. No problem. I'll go get him for you…"

"Wait!" Bastila cried, feeling her blood run cold. "What did you say?"

"Carth," the girl clarified. "He's cute is all I was saying. Are you two, like…y'know…together?"

"No, you said a name…Lal?"

"Yeah. Lal Sideen. She's a friend."

"Oh. Oh. Nevermind then." Bastila's mind whirled. It couldn't be…could it? She supposed it was a common enough name. But still, rather a strange coincidence. "I mean… Carth, yes. I'd like to see him. If you could send him 'round, I'd appreciate it."

Carth knocked at Bastila's door and heard her beckon him inside. He stepped in as the door slid open, and saw her struggling into a pair of tall boots that came up past her thighs. He smiled at her and propped his hip on a nearby table.

"You don't know how glad I am to see you, Bastila," he sighed.

"Captain Onasi," she said sharply, reaching up to pin her loose hair up. "I would appreciate a report on what has occurred. Obviously, I have been…indisposed. Ahem."

"Ah…right. Well, let's see. You recall anything about the _Endar Spire_?"

She waved her hand in annoyance. "Of course, Captain. My memory is intact."

"Right. Well, you got captured by a gang of thugs called the Black Vulkars. I tried to fight them, but they had me outnumbered. I got some assistance to rescue you, though. A rival gang called the Hidden Beks. They're essentially the _good guys_. They're willing to help us hide from the Sith. Speaking of, I'm pretty sure the Sith have brought the _Leviathan_ into orbit. They've got a planet-wide blockade in effect and have patrols scouring the streets for you."

"I see. Did anyone else from the_ Endar Spire_ survive, Captain?"

Carth folded his arms across his chest and shook his head gravely. "They started targeting the escape pods. We're the only ones who made it, Bastila."

Bastila's mouth fell open and her eyes fluttered in disbelief for a few moments. She struggled to regain her composure before Carth, but his words hammered into her. _The only ones who made it…_

"I…see," she murmured softly, thinking about the Jedi she'd known on the Spire. Those sent to help her; those who had become friends…Bastila forced herself to remember her training. She could not allow this news to deter her from her mission.

"Indeed," she said, struggling to keep her voice even and calm. "I estimate I've been out of commission for roughly a week…Is the mission in jeopardy, Captain Onasi?"

He chuckled bitterly and shook his head. "Yeah, Bastila. I'd say, _at a guess_, mind you, yeah. It is. It hasn't been officially compromised. But I don't see much chance for success. The Sith are crawling all over the place. Even if we could complete this secret mission of yours, I don't see how we could escape."

"I see, Captain. I'd like to remind you of protocol. Please refer to me as 'Commander' or 'Commander Shan', if you would."

Carth rolled his eyes and stood up straight. "Right. Listen, _Commander_, it's like this: our survival depends heavily on secrecy and stealth. If I go around referring to you as _commander_ and if you go around referring to me as _captain_, then very soon someone's gonna be clued in to the fact we're military. And since neither of us looks like Sith, that means it's gonna be assumed--"

She berated herself for being stupid. Of course he was right. "I see your point, Captain. I mean…_Carth._ Of course you're correct. I'm…still a bit confused from my ordeal. Well then. Now that I'm in command, we're going to be doing things a bit differently. Our first priority, of course is completing our mission. Have you been briefed about the specifics, Cap—er, Carth?"

"Briefed? Not exactly, Bastila. All the other Jedi perished aboard the _Spire_ before they could _brief_ me, I'm afraid…"

"Er…of course. What I meant was…oh nevermind. I'll fill you in as best as I can. Our second priority is to secure transport off this planet and back to Dantooine. You say the Sith have placed an orbital blockade around Taris? That could present a problem."

"Yeah. It might."

Bastila glanced sharply at him. "Captain, forgive me, but I don't think you're treating this situation with the seriousness it is due."

"Quite the contrary," he sighed. "Look…I realize you've been given authority on this mission, and I'm fine with that. However…I think you should consider the…_very strong _possibility that we may have to cut our losses and make a run for it. The Sith know that you are here. You're too damned valuable to the Republic. If they get their hands on you, our fight might as well be over. To be honest, I don't even know why the Council decided to send you on this mission."

"Of course, I welcome any suggestions you wish to make, Carth. But this mission is of utmost importance to the Jedi Council. And to the Republic."

"Alright, Bastila. I'm all ears."

"Very good. First of all, what can you tell me about this 'Lal' individual?"

"Lal Sideen. Well, first of all; if you ever have to go into a fight against a Rancor, she's the one person in the galaxy you want to have with you. Second of all; she looks damned nice in a skirt…"

Lal had been awake for some time now, but didn't have the energy to actually sit up. Besides which, Mission had fallen asleep across the lower half of Lal's bed, and she didn't feel like waking the girl up. So Lal just settled her head back against her pillow and stared up at the ceiling. She couldn't sleep anyway. Not with her shoulder throbbing. Pain meds had faded away. And she could feel every inch of the hole in her arm. Not to mention her side still ached. Then there were the burns on her hands, and various assorted scrapes and bruises…

For someone who never stuck her neck out for others, Lal was racking up a respectable amount of injuries.

But perhaps now, all that nonsense was over and done with. Ostensibly, Carth had his Bastila back, and they could go off and quite merrily perform whatever damn fool quest they'd come to Taris to do. The Vulkars were no longer a threat, and Brejik had paid with his life for what he had done to Selli. Now, all she really had to do was figure a way out of this mess with Davik.

She hated the thought that he wanted her dead. After all she had done to help him, she could scarcely believe it. But Canderous had no reason to lie to her. Did he? That was not the Mandalorian's way. She supposed he could have been deceiving her in some manner; trying to be an ally so she'd lower her guard when the time came to kill her. But that seemed overly elaborate for him. That was more Lal's style instead of Ordo's. She didn't know if she bought his whole _call to glory_ bit.

But the man knew a surprising amount of information about Lal's side operation. And of course, he had been completely right. While she had no intention of interfering with Davik's comfy little set-up on Taris, Lal was well and truly tired of serving others. Davik had a good set-up with the Exchange; he was more than content to be a member of their Old Boy Network. Lal craved independence, though. And she figured she had the guts to do it.

She had a number of people loyal to her here on Taris, and a few scattered on a handful of planets across the Rim. And she had business prospects; men who confused fiscal sense with their desire for her. Lal figured that, given enough time, she could carve out a nice little living for herself on some world, maybe Tatooine or some place similar. And from there, the sky was the limit.

But to do this, to escape Taris's nightmares, she had to get off the planet. She had to get away from Davik. However, with the Sith fleet hanging over her head, she didn't see how that was exactly possible. Maybe she would have another chat with Canderous. Maybe he had some thoughts on the matter.

The door to her room hissed open and Zaalbar trundled in. he cradled a steaming bowl in his paw; probably soup. Smelled good. In his other paw, he carried a glass of water. He grunted his greetings at her and she smiled. He sat the bowl and glass down on a table beside her bed. He glanced down at Mission fondly as she slept, and he softly whuffed.

Lal nodded her head. "I know. Yeah, you were right. But don't give me a hard time about it, hmm?"

He told her to eat her soup.

"Giving orders, now, are we?" she chuckled, reaching for the bowl. She had to sit up, though and Mission stirred sleepily.

"Wuzzat?" Mission grunted, sitting up. "Ow! Cramp…"

Lal took a sip of her soup and nodded. "Not bad. No, don't tell me what's in it. I don't want to know. But Zaalbar, could you be a fuzzy dear and get me a Tarisian Ale? And some meelee sauce?"

He shook his shaggy head.

"What, is it dinnertime?" Mission asked, rubbing sleep out of her eyes.

"You haven't eaten anything, Mission?" Lal asked.

"Nah…I guess I fell asleep. Duh. I just wanted to be here if you needed anything…"

"Mission, I swear. You're bloody-well turning me into an old woman."

Mission rubbed at her spine and cocked her head curiously at Lal. "Huh?"

"Nevermind," Lal said. She handed Mission the bowl and went on, "we'll share."

"No, I completely need something solid, Lal…maybe a salad…"

"Sounds good to me," Lal said. "Except for the salad part. Hey, since you're all uninjured and healthy, why don't you pop 'round Lien Lumb's for some Lan oodah?"

Zaalbar barked an admonition and shook his head defiantly. He pointed a claw at Lal and chewed out a string of grunts. Lal sighed and sat back as Mission sipped at the soup.

"I don't see why a blaster wound should keep me from eating anything spicy," Lal told him.

Zaalbar growled out an further bit of explanation and lowered his eyes.

Lal frowned at his words. "Lien's been arrested? Those damned Sith! What, do they believe just because he's an alien that he's a Republic sympathizer? Damn it!"

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Carth poked his head in tentatively. "Did I come at a bad time?"

"Technically," Lal told him.

"Okay. I'll come back later…"

"No, Carth," Lal sighed. "That's not what I meant…come on in. Everyone else has." Lal pulled her sheets up close to her chest and leaned back against the headboard of the bed.

Carth sat down on the edge of the bed and smiled down at Lal. "Anybody ever tell you you're amazing?"

"Ummm, yes. But no one whose opinion mattered to me."

"And my opinion finally matters to you, then?" he chuckled.

"I wouldn't go so far as that," she grinned back.

"I see. And I seem to recall a promise to negotiate for a kiss…"

"I don't recall any such bargain," she shrugged innocently. "Besides which, not in front of the Wookiee."

Zaalbar howled out a chuckle and shook his head.

Mission nodded in agreement with the Wookiee. "Yeah," she said, "why don't the two of you just mate and get it done with? Humans are so…complex…"

"It's called _flirting_, Mission," Lal said.

"Oh I know _all_ about flirting," Mission said with a blush. "That's about all I _do _know about…"

Carth smiled at the Twi'lek. "Don't worry, Mission. I'm sure you'll find some nice Twi'lek guy out there who will be more than willing to worship you."

"Worship," Mission mused. "Yeah. I could get used to that…"

Lal grinned and watched them banter and joke for a few minutes. It felt comfortable. It felt good to have friends, she decided. Even something…something rather more in Carth Onasi. In another time and place, she was sure they'd be doing more than the occasional flirting back and forth.

"So Carth," she finally said, "How is your friend doing?"

Carth's smile faded and he ran a hand through his hair. "Fine. She's up and around. Actually, she wants to meet you."

"Meet me? What for?"

Carth shrugged his shoulders. "She wouldn't say." Lal's smile disappeared, and she realized Carth was lying to her. She didn't know how she knew; perhaps she had simply learned to read his face when he spoke. She was good at that. Regardless, he was holding something back.

"Carth," she said softly, touching his arm. "What is it?"

"Nothing," he continued to lie. "Bastila just wants to meet you is all. She wanted me to ask if it was alright for her to stop in."

Lal frowned and glanced away. Now that she thought about it, she was more than a little curious about this Bastila woman. "You know what? I think I'll go see _her._ I feel like I've been asleep for a bloody week. Of course…I need my clothes…"

"Oh yeah," Mission said suddenly. "Your things were all burned and ripped. And filthy. We just threw them away…"

"How wonderful," Lal groaned. "So I have nothing to wear but my own kindness?"

"Well," Mission went on, "I was gonna go by your apartment to pick up some stuff for you…"

"No, that's a bad idea," Lal sighed. "Especially with the Sith arresting aliens. Besides, Davik's probably got someone watching my apartment. He'd have you picked up, in all likelihood."

"I'm sure the Beks have something you can wear," Carth told her. "Of course, I'm curious to see about that 'kindness' outfit you mentioned."

"You and every male on Taris," Lal said.

The only thing that managed to actually fit Lal's curves happened to be a skirt composed of Zeltronian sensor-mesh. It clung tightly to her, but it continually shifted to accommodate her every movement. It wasn't the most modest of outfits, having been designed for a Criblez courtesan. But it was easily as comfortable as her Slipsuit.

She knocked on Bastila's door and heard the woman bid her to come in. The door slid open and Lal stepped in. Bastila was performing some sort of slow moving combat form. Lal was familiar with this sort of thing. This form appeared to be a more meditative style. But she easily recognized the movements as lethal.

Bastila finished her form and released a deep breath. She turned to regard Lal curiously. Lal felt a cool tingle trickle down her spine as the young woman watched her. There was something about her eyes, the smooth cut of her face. It reminded Lal of something…or someone. But she couldn't quite place it.

"You are…Lal _Sideen_?" Bastila asked. She placed a strange inflection on Lal's name. As if she were testing the sound of it out.

"And you're Carth's friend. Bastila, right?"

"I am," she replied, continuing to stare at Lal. "Bastila Shan. I…I'm told…well, Carth told me…that I have you to thank for my lightsaber."

Lal's gaze flicked to the cylinder on the table beside the bed. A memory of the weapon flashing in Brejik's fist burned across her vision for a moment. "Yes…I figured…I figured it would be of some use to a Jedi Knight."

Bastila smiled tightly and nodded. She cocked her head thoughtfully at Lal, and then took up her lightsaber. "Are you familiar with the device?" she asked, handing it over to Lal.

Lal shook her head, but took it anyway. She thumbed the activation switch, and a golden shaft of energy hissed forth. It hummed and sang in her hand, shedding yellow light across the room. Lal noticed a second switch further down the cylinder and activated that as well. A second blade snapped out from the opposite end, surprising Lal.

"I've…seen them before, of course," Lal explained. "Never seen one with two blades. Isn't that rather a bit of overkill?" She closed down both blades and handed the weapon back to Bastila.

Bastila accepted the weapon and hooked it to her belt. "Not overkill. A Jedi does not carry weapons for their innate destructive potential. The lightsaber is a tool of defense. Not offense."

Lal chuckled. "Best defense is a good offense, though isn't it?"

Bastila arched an eyebrow and sat down on her bed. "I'm told that you're rather an influential personage on Taris; that you work for a…a _gangster_."

"You could say that," Lal nodded. "Or you could also say I'm an assassin and cutthroat cold-blooded witch."

"Ah. Fulfilling work is it?"

"Has its perks. Never a dull moment. And being a Jedi…is that an exciting job?"

"A Jedi does not crave excitement. And it's somewhat more of a _calling _than a job."

Lal nodded silently and folded her arms across her breasts. "Sounds like great fun. So you wanted to talk. Did you simply want to compare careers? Or was there another reason?"

"To be honest, Miss Sideen, I wanted very much to thank you for your…efforts…your…contribution to my, er…rescue. I understand this was done at great personal risk. I'm very grateful, of course. And…I wanted to meet you. I'm glad Carth was able to enlist your assistance. Carth is a capable man; a legendary soldier. But I fear, without your help, I'd still be in a stasis tube ready to be auctioned off to the highest bidder."

"Carth is a good man," Lal replied. "Good to have at your back in a fight."

"Oh, no argument there. But he is not a Jedi."

"Neither am I."

A strange little smile passed briefly across Bastila's lips. "No. I don't suppose that you are."

"Bastila, I don't mean to be rude," Lal sighed, "but is there a point to this?"

"I believe so. How long have you been here on Taris, Lal? About three years?"

"I…yes. That's right…"

"And," Bastila continued, "you have no memory of your life before that."

"I…what the bloody hell…? How did you know that?"

"Nothing sinister, I assure you. I am able to…sense certain things. To tell what a person is feeling or thinking. To sense if a person is lying or telling the truth."

"So you read minds," Lal growled. "Cute trick. A word to the wise; stay out of my head."

"Have you never questioned your life beyond Taris? What it might have been like? What you might have been?"

"Alright, listen," Lal snapped, "I did not come here to be the subject of some sort of…analysis. I trust you've satisfied your curiosity."

"Please don't go," Bastila called as Lal turned to leave. "I don't mean to insult you, Lal."

"I'm not insulted," Lal told her. "What I am is busy. So if you'll excuse me…"

"I need your help, Lal," Bastila said, rising to her feet. "Carth and I need your help."

"Don't you think I've helped enough?"

"More than either of us had any right to expect," Bastila admitted. "But in this, I believe our goals cross paths with your own. Lal, the Sith will tear this planet apart to get what they're looking for."

"So I've noticed already. I might add that they're looking for _you._"

Bastila lowered her eyes and nodded. "I cannot deny that. But should the Sith capture me, it will lead them to…to another. I cannot allow that to happen."

"Right…so, how do I come into this problem of yours?"

"Well, we require transportation off-world. To get past the blockade. I can sense that you too are in need of transport. That to stay here much longer would be dangerous for you."

Lal thought about denying it. But she knew that this girl could read her thoughts as easily as a datapad. "Didn't I warn you about doing that?"

"It's rather difficult to avoid when you're broadcasting your feelings like a beacon, Lal. It's not intentional. It's akin to standing naked in the middle of the street and then getting upset when someone glances at your body. I could teach you…some…techniques to guard your thoughts."

"I'll pass. Listen, this blockade has my hands tied. Assuming for a moment you have any insight into my motivations and plans…I don't have a ship that can make it past a Sith blockade. I have off-world contacts, but they'd probably get blasted out of the sky before they came within an AU of Taris."

Bastila nodded in thought. "Have you no other options at your disposal, then?"

"I didn't say that. But even if I do, why would I want to bring you and Carth along? Granted, I may like Carth well enough, but he's been nothing but trouble. And my suspicion is that you're twice the trouble he is. And I've got better things to do than get killed."

"You may not believe in the importance of our fight, Lal," Bastila said, "but sooner or later, you _will_ be forced to take a side. It is the way of things. In times like these, we don't always have the luxury to walk the middle road."

"Please. Spare me the diatribe. On Taris, there are no roads but the middle ones. Right and wrong lose meaning here. And no matter who wins your war, things will be the same here. Why should I care who sits on some throne on Coruscant?"

"Amazing. You have within you the power to change things, Lal, and yet, you fail to recognize it. Does not even an evil man prefer to have good neighbors over evil neighbors?"

"Alright. It was nice meeting you, Bastila," Lal sighed, heading for the door. "I'd love to stay and chat with you…actually, no, I wouldn't. If you'll excuse me…"

"So you finally decided to talk to me," Canderous said between bites of food. "I knew you would."

Lal glanced at his leathery face and sighed. Then she returned her gaze to the plate of food before him. It was piled with dark rubbery chunks of meat which smelled like a dank pond. He speared each piece of meat hungrily with his fork and shoved it down his throat. He followed that rather sloppily with a wash of dark Mandalorian beer. And tossed out a belch every so often, mainly for effect.

"I take it talking with your mouth full is rather popular on Mandalore, hmm?" Lal pointed out, a pained frown wrinkling her brow. She leaned forward and took a whiff of his food. Her nose crinkled up at the sharp reek. "Eww. What _is_ that you're shoveling down your throat?"

Canderous chuckled and wiped his sleeve across his mouth. He pointed with his fork to the squat Nautolan standing behind the bar, taking orders from customers. "See that chap there? He runs the place. For enough cred, he'll fry up a baby Nautolan for you. It's considered a delicacy."

Lal tried not to throw up at that. "Y-you mean to tell me…Canderous…you're eating a baby Nautolan?"

He shrugged. "It's an acquired taste, I admit…you should try some. It's really quite delicious…"

Lal covered her mouth and stared at the man in horror. "Canderous…th-that's…"

"Eh," he grinned widely at her distress. "Actually it's just shellfish, Lal. Heh. You know, you almost turned as green as that Nautolan over there. Heh."

Lal closed her eyes and shook her head. "So, that was what passes for a joke among Mandalorians? Very colorful, Canderous."

"Women across the galaxy are gullible." He tossed back another gulp from the beer bottle at his right and leaned back to stare at Lal. "Clothes. Heh. That's a different look for you."

Lal sighed and rolled her eyes. "You're never going to let that go, are you?"

"Well, it's our little secret, of course. But I see no reason not to torture you endlessly about it."

"Well," she growled ruefully, "aren't you just in a pleasant mood."

"Indeed. My belly is full. Things are looking up. And the great Lal Sideen has finally seen the wisdom of my words."

"Wisdom," she grunted dubiously. "Right." She set a tiny round object onto the table between them. Several red lights flickered on the surface of the little globe.

"White sound generator," Canderous noted, glancing at the object. "Very clever of you. And if I had any bugs or transmitters set up within thirty feet or so, it would be effective. But I do not."

"Can never be too careful."

"True."

Lal watched his face and sat back in her chair. She crossed her legs and narrowed her eyes into slits. "So, you wish to work for me."

"Quite."

"Mmm-hmm. So, I can match your current retainer right now. I can double it in perhaps a month, maybe two. But right now, I can't pay you any more than Davik can. Convince me why I should believe you're ready to come on board."

"Money serves a purpose," he told her. "But only a very gross one. It buys me food, and a roof to put over my head. And little more than that. I have, over my lifetime, acquired a substantial amount of money. More so than anyone suspects because I live simply. Plainly. Simply put, Lal, neither your money nor Davik's money is the bait upon which I will be hooked."

"Okay. Fine by me. So what do you think I can provide you that Davik cannot?"

He drained his beer and waved for the waiter to bring him another. "It's already become well known that you raced for the Beks. Your fight with Brejik is still being shown on the holo-vids. Glorious fight, Lal. Glorious. That is what I seek. To fight and to fight well. It may seem…_bloodthirsty_ to you. Since you are not of the Blood of Mandalore, I doubt I could explain it to you better than I already have."

"Do try," she told him.

"Lal…we Mandalorians were born and bred to be superior in every way to other humans. We were born so from necessity. We fought and bled and killed to build one of the greatest empires ever known. Once, our influence spread across entire sectors. It was a constant challenge for my kind; to build the empire and to protect its borders. We are not a solitary people, Lal. Every man and woman and child is valued. We knew the importance of community. Everyone had a role to play. And so, when we fought enemies who threatened us, that _community_ was always foremost in every warrior's thoughts. If I killed a man, it was because I knew that that man posed a threat to my brother. Or my sister. Or my son…or _daughter_…No Mandalorian ever fought without these thoughts driving him to victory. For the glory of the empire, and the honor of all.

"But that has changed," he went on, lighting a hand rolled Paagh stick and puffing on it. "Now, we are scattered to the solar winds. We have no glories, and our honor is forgotten."

"I…suppose I can…understand that…but I will not lie to you; honor…I have no honor, Canderous. Not the sort of honor you seek."

He inhaled a gout of smoke and released it through his nose. "Heh. Untrue, Lal Sideen. In a world of cutthroats and scum, you are the most honorable person I've met. To live honorably…to _kill_ honorably…it is a challenge. It alone is an end to itself. I have watched you over the years. I have seen this to be so. Do not insult me by denying it. There is a…a greatness to you. To your actions. Something I have not felt since…well. Certainly not for a long time. I do not know what your ultimate destiny is, Lal Sideen. I know it will be great, however. And I know that fighting at your side will be…worthy of song…"

Lal nodded slowly, wondering exactly how to respond to that. She was pretty sure that Canderous Ordo was a madman. All this talk of destinies and glory was beyond her. She didn't know how to sound competent in such a discussion. Nor was she terribly interested in learning. But Canderous seemed fairly honest.

It may have been a mistake for her to think like that, but she was running out of options.

"Alright, Canderous," she said. "We'll try this out. I'm in charge. You do what I say. If you have a problem taking orders from a woman, let's hear it now, because I won't tolerate any dissention down the line."

"I have no problems following a woman's commands…as long as that woman is you."

"Canderous…you make it sound so dirty…"

He threw his head back and laughed. For a brief moment, when he threw out a deep belly laugh like that, he sounded like any normal person. But then, she recalled his talk of entrail-dancing, and she pushed that thought right out of her head. She waited for his laughter to die down before she went on.

"First order of business, Canderous: we need a way to get off the planet."

"Logical," he agreed, downing a gulp of beer. "Of course, Davik has been thinking much along the same lines. I reckon he's decided that working _with_ the Sith would ultimately be futile."

"I figured as much. Davik's got an entire fleet grounded right now because of the blockade. It won't be long before he starts losing distributors."

Canderous smiled wickedly. "And that would set up a perfect opportunity for someone who was ready to take advantage of Davik's loss, hmm?"

"I don't know anything about that…" she said, glancing away. "Davik is in a sticky position because he has a number of ships he needs to worry about; the same plan probably wouldn't work for each vessel. If he was willing to sacrifice one or two ships so that the rest could get away in the confusion, that would be different. But he can't afford to. One ship would actually be easier to slip past the blockade."

"Perhaps. A fast ship. But there's a problem with that as well, Lal. The Sith are doing something I haven't seen since the war. Normally, when they blockade a planet, they simply move in a number of heavy cruisers and train their turbolaser batteries on anything that moves. But the Sith have deployed half a dozen automated orbital batteries. They're called Eradicator Batteries. There are no crews, no coordinations with the fleet. You don't have a fire control officer taking the time to gain fire permission from his commander. These beauties simply open fire on anything not broadcasting a code sequence. And these Eradicators can track, acquire and lock-on to a target a thousand times quicker than a capital gun-crew can. The Jedi warriors, Malak and his master, Revan used these devices almost exclusively at the end of the final skirmish. Since it's believed Malak is in command of the Sith now, he's probably the one who fielded the Eradicators."

"Canderous, how do you know about this? As far as I understood, there was a planet-wide information black-out about the specifics of the Sith forces."

"In ages past, the Mandalorians had favorable dealings with the Sith. There are still those among the Sith who remember those alliances. Which leads me to my next point: I know a man at the Sith base. Anticipating your need to get off the planet, I convinced him to make a copy of the code. He was going to deliver it to me, but unfortunately, he got himself beheaded. He was able to hide the code copy in a lower security buffer in the Sith mainframe. It does us no good, of course, unless we can get to it."

Lal folded her arms across her breasts. "I think I might know a way to get in."

"How's that?"

Lal glanced up at him and scowled. She still didn't trust him. "You let me worry about that. But even if we get the codes, there's still the problem of not having a ship. It needs to be fast. Faster than anything the Sith have got. Even if we defeat these Eradicator things, the fleet can still get a visual on us."

"Fast ship, you say?" Canderous mused, watching her face closely. "I believe I know where you are going with this. You have a devious mind, Lal Sideen. But that will be a challenge within itself. To steal the flagship of Davik Kang's smuggler fleet. No small task."

"I have some thoughts on the matter."

"Oh?"

She nodded. "I was thinking of asking nicely."

"Heh. The ship is locked down when not in use. He has moved the _Ebon Hawk_ to the hangar in his estate. Getting in will be difficult."

"No, it actually won't," she told him. "Getting in will be as simple as sin. Getting back out will be the trick."

"Kee wa keen cuucca-Cheen!" Janice Nal cried happily when Lal stepped into her workshop.

"Janice," Lal smiled. "You remember Zaalbar?"

The Wookiee rumbled a greeting and Janice nodded. The Twi'lek flipped her lekku back over her shoulders rose from where she had crouched over the open chassis of an astromech droid. She tossed her hydrospanner into a toolbox and wiped her greasy hands on her pants legs.

Lal pretended to be interested in the rows of deactivated droids Janice sold out of her shop. Zaalbar gaped like a kid in a toy store, however. He drifted over to a broad cargo-lifter droid, and ran his claws over the droid's inert lifting arm.

"Nee wanna-wanga?" Janice asked Lal as she perused a tiny messenger droid.

Lal turned to face Janice. "Is he ready?"

Janice smiled and jerked her thumb towards the rear of her shop. She led Lal to the back and through a doorway into her storeroom. Janice continued chattering away in enthusiastic Huttese as she guided Lal through aisles of droid components. Six months ago, after coming into a bit of extra money, Lal had commissioned Janice to build her a custom droid, almost from scratch. It had been an exciting prospect for Janice who was a savant with droid systems and AI.

Janice gestured to a table which held a black metal frame. Locked within the frame rested the droid. It had no legs to speak of, and was shaped roughly like an egg laid flat. As they came near, the wide visual sensor plate on the droid's "head" swiveled up to watch them. Beside the wide blue sensor were three tiny red vid recorders.

"He's…on-line?" Lal asked. Janice nodded. She reached out to unlock the frame and the droid slowly floated up into the air. It rose up to Lal's height and unfolded eight spindly arms from the bottom. She glanced down and noted the various grasper claws, micro-welders, and mini-actuators hanging from the slender limbs. The droid reached up an actuator and used the delicate fingers to examine a curl of Lal's hair, hanging over her shoulder.

"Hey!" she said, pulling away from the curious droid. It snatched the probing fingers back and released a string of high pitched beeps and whistles. Atop its back a pair of flat repulsorlifts mini-drives flicked out almost like wings. It shot back away from her and zipped around to hide behind Janice. Lal rolled her eyes. "Oh he's bloody shy, is he?"

Janice shrugged. "Nee nanna chutto." She reached down to the table and grabbed a palm-top computer. She tapped a few commands onto the keypad and the droid zipped back out from behind her. It's large blue "eye" stared blankly at Lal while Janice continued to enter commands. With each command she entered, the little droid emitted a beep.

When she was done, Janice informed Lal that the droid was now programmed to recognize Lal as its user. It drifted back towards Lal and began examining her hair once more.

"Um…" Lal frowned, glancing around at the droid as it floated behind her. "Is there any way to make him stop doing that?"

Janice chuckled and patted Lal on the shoulder. She pressed the palm-top into Lal's hand and explained that if she wanted to change any program settings, she could use the module to do so.

Lal nodded. "Does he have a name?"

"Ah…bo Ay-vay-ood-oia," Janice said. Then in very careful and slow basic she said, "_Arakyd-Vie-purrr-Ate._ Mmm…_mod-ee-fied_."

"AyVee-Eight," Lal mused. "Cute, Janice. Corny, but cute. Alright. Here you go." She handed Janice a two-K credit-spike. That brought the total she'd dropped on her new droid to six thousand credits in all. "You'd better be worth it, my little friend."

The droid whistled confidently and floated close to her head as she walked out into the shop.

"Zaalbar, stop playing with that droid," Lal said. The Wookiee jumped away from the cargo-droid he'd been inspecting and clasped his paws innocently behind his back. AyVee caught sight of the huge Wookiee and screeched in alarm. He dodged behind Lal while Zaalbar pressed his paws against his ears and roared. "Oh, knock it off, you two!"

Zaalbar pointed a claw at the droid and fired off a warning bark. AyVee gained a little bit of confidence and whistled and hooted at the Wookiee over Lal's shoulder. AyVee rather rapidly determined that his high-pitched whistles sliced right into the Wookiee's sensitive ears.

"Oh bloody hell," Lal groaned. "You two stop it this minute!" she yelled. Both Zaalbar and AyVee fell reluctantly silent, glaring at each other. Lal glared furiously at both of them. "I cannot believe this," she hissed, aiming a finger at AyVee. "I'm not even out of the shop with you, and you're acting up!"

AyVee hummed apologetically and drifted low, sinking beneath Lal's knee. Zaalbar grunted in satisfaction and folded his arms across his massive chest.

"And you!" Lal whirled her fury on the Wookiee. "You should know better! Now stop acting like children. Let's go."

Lal stormed out of the shop while Zaalbar and AyVee fell in behind her. Zaalbar turned and bared his teeth to the little droid. AyVee rolled his scanner away in irritation.

The Sith had occupied a cluster of buildings in UpCity's docking sector. Before their arrival, ships blistered into the atmosphere day in and day out to touch down on platforms precariously suspended over the soaring urban canyons far below. The only ships that flew now were Sith snub fighters and a few transports commandeered to ferry supplies and personnel to and from the surface.

The Sith base had been built in less than two days, relying upon the Sith defense philosophy of the mobile fortress. When Sith troopers put down on a planet, they brought with them modular components for their strongholds; security walls that could be mounted against existing structures to make them secure; autoblasters to lay down killing fields; sentry check points.

They'd take what had been a bustling warehouse and turned it into a citadel almost overnight. Now, troopers patrolled the docking bays, and posted guards along the bridge that connected the Docks to the main plaza of UpCity. Sensor towers mounted on collapsible lattice-works scanned the skies while turbolaser batteries crouched upon the rooftops.

Heavily carapaced Sith speeders prowled the city streets beyond the Access Bridge, and a massive Speeder Tank rested just before the main gate. Beyond it, on the bridge, two heavy blaster positions had been set up, and the crews delighted in running targeting drills on civilians who strayed within their sights.

But as secure as the Sith had made their ersatz stronghold, it was still a warehouse facility in a docking complex nearly as large as a city. There were many entrances, and pathways winding in. To deal with this, the Sith had unleashed hundreds of patrol droids to crawl the walkways and guard the doors, like gleaming white metal spiders hunting their next meal.

They also put a guard station at the LowCity entrance; no tank could fit in those corridors, but they did set up gun emplacements and checkpoints. A covered walkway led to the Dock entrance, and through the long, narrow windows of the passage, several docking platforms could be seen glinting in the orange sky.

The Sith manning the entrance did not see the tiny Arakyd surveillance droid hovering in passive scan mode above them. One of its three vid recorders glowed a dim red, capturing the movements of the Sith troops and relaying them back to a hand-held, palm-top computer module.

Soon, a trio of troops in bright silver armor marched up to the first checkpoint at the far end of the walkway. The two taller soldiers held heavy blaster rifles on a pair of prisoners; a towering Wookiee and a woman in a dun-colored tabard. The shorter soldier stepped up to the guard manning the checkpoint and jerked a thumb back at the prisoners.

"We caught these two on patrol, she said, her voice turned into a metallic growl by her helmet's respiratory filter. "We think the female may be the one Lord Malak is after."

The guard nodded and waved them through the post. As they stepped onto the walkway, two massive blaster cannons swiveled to cover them, the gunnery crew staring impassively at them.

"Hold it," an officer in gray and black ordered, walking briskly from the entrance. He stopped before the three soldiers and stared curiously at their prisoners. "I haven't heard any reports of prisoners being taken. What unit are you with?"

The female soldier stiffened her posture and stared straight ahead. "Fourth Ground Assault mechanized, Sir!" she replied smartly.


	9. Chapter 6 part 2

"Fourth Ground is in Zeta Sector, soldier," the officer growled back. "What are you doing in Beta?"

"Sir, Fourth Ground AM was ambushed by some local gang members. We went in pursuit. We got separated and found these two setting explosives at one of the forward checkpoints."

"Ambush?" the officer frowned doubtfully. "Explosives? Why haven't I heard about any of this?"

"Oh you'll be hearing about it, sir. Right about _now!"_

Just then, one of the docking platforms visible beyond the window exploded in a sphere of angry red flame. It snapped off from the mooring arm suspending it above the city and swung downward into empty space. All attention snapped towards the explosion.

Except for the three soldiers.

The female soldier tossed a grenade at each of the cannon emplacements, and she threw herself flat on the ground. Both guns erupted with a thundering _crack_, and the crews of each gun screamed as their bodies flipped limply into the air. Behind the female soldier, the other two soldiers opened fire on the rest of the troopers. Armored bodies collapsed as blaster bolts sizzled through their chests and faces.

The female rolled over her shoulder and came up in a crouch with two blasters in hand. She fired on the two guards at the door, burning black holes into their helmet faceplates. The officer whirled on her in shock and anger, hauling his pistol from the holster on his belt. The Wookiee snarled savagely, and grabbed the man around his throat. His neck popped loudly and he fell limp in the Wookiee's grasp.

The tiny surveillance droid swooped down towards the door even as the female soldier called out, "Now AyVee!"

It hovered in front of the heavy locking mechanism and an interface rod flipped down from its cluster of spindly, spidery arms. The rod sank into an interface port and began to whir and click. Two of the soldiers ran up to the door beside the droid while the Wookiee grabbed up a fallen rifle. The woman prisoner reached under her tabard and ignited a golden lightsaber.

"Canderous, watch our rear," Lal called, tugging her Sith helmet off.

Canderous nodded grimly beside Bastila and panned his massive rifle along the far end of the walkway.

"Looks like the Beks did their job," Carth said, yanking his own helmet off. "Let's hope this droid of yours can reroute computer control before they lock us out…"

Bastila jogged lightly up beside them, her lightsaber singing as she moved. "I could simply try to cut through, you know."

Carth shook his head as he watched Lal's droid work. "Door's too thick. It would take too long."

AyVee beeped happily as the locking mechanism of the door clanked and opened. He drifted back to float beside Lal's shoulder and bubbled forth an excited series of whistles and clicks and beeps. As the door opened, Lal popped a flash grenade inside and they all turned their heads away.

_Whump!_

Screams and cries sounded from within, and Lal and Carth swung into the room, bracketing the doorway. They opened fire on the blinded troopers within, cutting them swiftly down. Bastila, Zaalbar and Canderous filed in behind them and Lal moved swiftly towards a computer station in the center of the room.

"AyVee," she said, "jack in and see if you can find the codes." The droid acquiesced with a toot, sinking his interface rod into the stud on the terminal. After few seconds, he honked in frustration and disengaged.

"What seems to be the problem?" Bastila demanded.

Lal sighed in annoyance at the younger woman. "It _seems_ that AyVee can't get access. That's what the problem is…"

The droid interrupted with an angry string of beeps. Lal tried to make sense of the droid's harmonic speech, but couldn't understand. Then it suddenly dawned on her. "You need to access a higher security terminal…"

The droid whistled long and low, relieved she finally got it. It pointed a grasper claw to the door directly ahead of them, and floated in that direction.

"Follow the droid, I guess," Lal sighed, jogging after AyVee.

The door hissed open to reveal a long white corridor studded with doors. At the far end, there stood another door. AyVee zipped up to hug against the ceiling and coursed happily down the corridor. "AyVee, wait!"

A door beside Lal slid open and an officer stuck her head out. "I thought I heard blasterfire," she said, her eyes locking on Lal's face.

"You did," Lal said, shoving her gun into the woman's face and firing point blank. The officer fell back into the room, and Lal noticed several other troops sitting down at a table, playing Pazaak. When they saw their officer collapse in a lifeless heap, they scrambled to their feet, reaching for their weapons. Lal popped into the room and shot them down. Carth leaned in behind her, adding his shots to her own.

Behind them Zaalbar and Canderous opened up with their rifles as soldiers appeared through the far door. Carth yanked Lal out of the crossfire, but Bastila simply charged.

"What is she doing?" Lal cried.

"Being a Jedi," Carth grunted, trading shots with the soldiers.

Lal watched in breathless awe as Bastila turned and twisted her blade, deflecting each blaster bolt that hissed towards her. Her lightsaber cried out defiantly as she dashed into the midst of the soldiers. She ducked low and jabbed her glowing blade into a soldier's belly. She ripped free and slashed laterally, beheading a trooper edging in on her flank.

"Is she crazy?" Lal hissed.

Carth did a double-take at her and chuckled. "This from the woman who leaps on Rancors."

Lal glared at him and shook her head. "She'll get herself killed doing that! Canderous, stay here and cover our exit. Zaalbar, hold position here and give us fire support. Carth, with me."

Carth seemed surprised, but didn't argue. The two of them sailed down the corridor after Bastila. They burst into the wide room behind her as she carved a smoking swath through the soldiers within. AyVee slipped in above them, managing to easily stay out of the line of fire by hovering above everyone's heads.

A door at the left side of the chamber hissed open and several more troops filed in. Lal and Carth cut them down before they could target Bastila's back. More tried to push through, but stumbled over the bodies piled in front of them.

Bastila whirled on the Sith, having finished off the rest of the soldiers in that chamber. She whipped her lightsaber forward, hurling it in a spinning disk of golden light. The weapon hummed viciously into armor and flesh and bone, and another body fell. Bastila held forth her hand, and the lightsaber sailed back into her grasp.

Lal would have been amazed if she'd had the time. Instead, she kept pumping shots through the doorway, blasting down the troops who tried to get through. Finally five soldiers stormed into the room and spread out along the walls. They peppered Lal's position with blaster shots and she dropped flat on the floor. Still firing at them, she rolled across the floor and dashed for cover behind a series of deactivated stasis tubes.

She popped a few shots off from behind the tubes, and she heard a scream as she hit one of them. Again, Bastila dashed right at the soldiers, disemboweling the nearest one. Carth fired a quick flurry of shots, taking out the two blasting Lal's position. She nodded her thanks to him from across the room, and he smiled in reply.

Bastila did not pause, however. She hurled herself through the air, crashing her boot into a trooper's faceplate. Impossibly, she twisted her body over in mid-air and shoved off against him with her other foot. He fell back into a comrade and Lal shot them both. Bastila fell to the floor and reached downward to pivot around on her palm. She thrust her foot into the remaining trooper's knee, and he collapsed with a shrill scream. As he fell, Bastila rose upwards, drawing her blade up his groin and belly, unzipping his guts.

"Clear," Bastila informed them, nodded at Carth. He nodded back and dashed forward to the side of the door, covering Bastila as she stepped in. Lal sighed and moved up on the opposite side.

She activated the comm on her wrist and spoke into it. "Zaalbar, move up. Canderous, hold."

Carth glanced at her with a smile twinkling in his eyes. "You're so cute when you're barking orders like that."

"Rule number one: never flirt with a girl who is in a hostile mood and is carrying a smoking blaster."

"Point taken…_General Lal_," he chuckled back.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

"If you two would please control your hormones long enough…?" Bastila sighed heavily. "This would appear to be some sort of control room."

Lal tossed a lingering glance at Carth and stepped into the room. She looked around and saw tall banks of computer consoles and monitors rising up to the ceiling in flickering rows.

"AyVee, plug in," she called to the floating droid above her. AyVee swooped down to hover before one of the consoles. He deployed his interface and jacked in. The screen before him lit up with scrolling columns of alpha-numerics, each flickering faster than Lal could track. Every second or so, the bottom row in the lower right corner of the screen flashed red. AyVee hummed absently and Lal wondered exactly why Janice had programmed the droid with a personality.

She knew very little about computer programming, but Lal was able to tell that AyVee was slicing his way into the very code of the numerous security files on the Sith database. The Arakyd Viper series were all highly independent droids capable of a variety of infiltration protocols. They had slicing software packages which allowed them to access secure files and crack encryptions.

Six months ago, Davik had found this Arakyd snooping through his personal computer files. Lal had blasted the little droid into so much scrap. Initially, Davik had ordered his people to examine the droid's database, to see what it had been looking for. Then, they simply discarded it. But Lal scooped up the remains from the trash and took it to Janice. The Twi'lek had rebuilt the droid from the codes on up. Lal would never have been able to explain why she wanted a droid with such…unique capabilities. But there were a lot of things she did, on vague, wild whims that paid off later.

In one way or another.

Suddenly, Canderous came running backwards into the control room. An icy grin was frozen upon his lips. He glanced back over his shoulder at Lal and the others. "We're going to have company. A lot of company. No way I could hold them all, but I left a few surprises for them."

"Wonderful," Carth growled. "Our _exfil_ is compromised."

Lal glanced around as AyVee continued to search. Looking up, she spied a metal grate sitting flush in the ceiling. "Zaalbar, give me a boost up."

The Wookiee lumbered over and lifted Lal up on his shoulder. She reached up and snared her fingers in the bars of the grate. With a grunt, she popped the it free and peered up inside. It looked like a ventilation duct, but she didn't know if they'd be able to climb the shaft. It seemed to go straight upwards as far as she could tell, and there was no way to know where it would open up.

As Lal squinted to see in the darkness a distant explosion rocked through the walls and floors. Zaalbar stumbled and lost grip on Lal's legs. She cried out and grasped desperately for a handhold.

"One of your surprises, Mandalorian?" Carth growled.

Canderous nodded. "First one, 'Public."

"This is not good," Bastila murmured. "You'll have the entire garrison on our heads!"

Canderous's grin showed he eagerly anticipated it. "In for a cred, as they say!"

"Dammit," Carth hissed. He glanced over to the droid and then to Lal. "What's the story? Can we get out that way?"

"I…th-think so…" Lal gasped, hanging from the lip of the shaft. "Zaalbar…a little help here…?"

The Wookiee grunted and heaved her up. She cried out as she very nearly flew straight up the shaft.

AyVee beeped proudly as he finished his task. The droid glanced around for Lal, but only saw her legs dangling from the shaft.

"I think the droid's done," Bastila announced. "Can we get out that way, Lal?"

"Very soon," Canderous chuckled bitterly, "anywhere will be more favorable than here!"

Another explosion rocked the floor, hurling them from their feet. Lal slid down the smooth sides of the shaft, but her fingers found purchase on a seam on the metal siding. Lal grunted and hauled her legs up. She folded her body, pressing her knees against one side of the shaft and levering her spine against the other side. She flexed her legs and slid her body upwards. AyVee swooped up beneath her and began bumping against her bottom impatiently.

"Hey!" she snapped at him. "Touching me is not a good idea!"

AyVee chirped apologetically.

"Looks like there's a ledge…" Lal said, craning her neck upwards. "Another grate…shush, AyVee…" As Lal stretched to peer through the grate, she caught a glimpse of Bastila crawling up the shaft beneath AyVee. Lal gestured for Bastila to hold her position. Lal peeked through the grate, and saw a Sith officer frantically barking orders to two others.

"We can't stay in this bloody shaft!" Bastila hissed.

"Shhh!" Lal replied. Of course the young Jedi was completely correct; if they stayed in the shaft, with no cover, they could easily be picked off by anyone below. Time was running out for them; Carth was already scrambling up the shaft below Bastila. "Oh damn," Lal muttered sourly.

She shoved forward with her right leg, hurling the grate into the room. As quickly as she could, she pushed her body forward, slithering feet first into the room. She crashed to the floor in a heap and groaned.

The three officers in the room froze in utter shock as she slowly got to her feet. For an endless second, they stared haplessly at her. She returned their gaze and then forced her mind to go back to work.

"Maintenance," she blurted, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. "Inspecting…the…oh the hell with it." She jerked her pistol up and trained it on the senior officer. "You move and you die. You talk and you die."

The Sith didn't move a muscle between the three of them.

Bastila zipped into the room with a bit more grace than Lal. AyVee flew in and bobbed up towards the ceiling. Bastila turned back to the vent and helped Carth crawl out. "Lovely plan, Lal. The entire base is probably in lock-down by now. Which means we have no escape route."

Lal rolled her eyes. She was getting tired of Bastila's mouth. "I don't recall _asking_ you to come along," Lal sighed, keeping her gun on the Sith.

"_Someone _had to come along to keep you from getting yourself killed!" Bastila fired back.

"Oh, I see! This from the Jedi who lost her lightsaber and got herself captured!"

"I did _not _lose my lightsaber!" Bastila cried indignantly. "It was taken while I was unconscious!"

Lal swallowed a growl and shook her head. "Whatever. Just take their weapons."

"And that's another thing we need to clear up," Bastila continued. "I only take orders from you at my decision! In fact, you should consider your…_orders_ to be rather more like suggestions!"

"Ladies," Carth grunted, tugging Canderous out of the shaft, "is this really the time and place for this argument?" Once Canderous was safely in, they both turned and hauled Zaalbar out. The Wookiee shrieked as a patch of fur got caught on the seam of the opening.

One of the Sith raised his hand tentatively. "Er…excuse me?"

"What?" Lal snarled at him.

"Er…it's just that…we don't have weapons…being that we're just computer programmers…"

Lal cocked her hip to the side and lowered her gun. "Oh."

"They're programmers," Bastila groaned, pressed her hand to her forehead in dismay. "We probably simply could have come here and asked them for the files."

Lal closed her eyes and gnashed her teeth together. "Are you purposely trying to push my buttons, Bastila?"

Bastila adopted an innocent expression and shrugged her shoulders. "I'm only saying…they're _programmers._ Not soldiers. They probably would have been quite helpful."

"Just because they're programmers doesn't mean they're not evil," Lal snapped back. "They're Sith! I thought you hated Sith!"

"Lal, I am a Jedi Knight. I do not succumb to hate."

"Of course! You're Jedi! It's utterly beneath you!"

"Um…" the Sith raised his hand once more. "I really don't mean to interrupt, because you seem to be having a…very important conversation…but are you planning on killing us?"

"A bit eager to die, aren't you, boy?" Canderous grinned savagely, shoving the barrel of his rifle under the officer's chin.

"Canderous," Lal called out. "Down. Alright. What is your name?"

The Sith cleared his throat and stiffened his spine. He thrust his chin forward as if he were at parade rest and said, "Junior Leftenant Nam Tanno! Serial Number--"

"Alright shut up," Lal sighed. She glanced at a cluster of computer consoles in the room and waved her blaster at them. "I suppose you could help us, Nam. If the base is in lock-down status, you could open a path for us."

Nam Tanno's stature instantly slumped and desperation clouded his features. "Er…well, actually…You see, none of us wishes you Republic scum any harm, of c-course…eh…but we'd be beheaded for aiding and abetting the enemy. You understand of course…"

"Of course," Lal smiled sweetly at him. She put her blaster away and unsheathed her vibroblade. She clicked it on, and eyed Nam's face speculatively. "I like to gather mementos. I'm partial to ears and noses. Canderous here likes tongues." She slowly pointed the tip of her blade at Tanno's face and brought the buzzing edge close enough to his ear that his teeth began to chatter from the vibration.

"Er…wait! You're Republic!" He cried, clapping a hand protectively over his ear. "You don't…you don't…"

"_I'm_ not Republic. I don't even like the Republic. I don't like the Sith either. I _do _like ears, though…"

"Gah!" the officer gurgled, "Alright! What do you want?"

"That's a dear," she smiled. "I want you to give us a layout of this base of yours. I want you to clear us a path to the nearest exit, releasing any blast doors or security lock-outs."

"I…okay. B-but you must know, even if you made it, as soon as you set foot outside, you'd be blasted by our troops positioned on the entrances…"

Carth stepped forward to whisper into Lal's ear. "He's probably right, Lal. If we walked out of the door at this point, we'd have to fight our way through the city. Besides which, we couldn't trust him anyway. We need another option."

"Drat," Lal murmured. "You're right, of course…" a thought whistled weakly in her mind, then, trying to punch through from her memory. "Canderous…I seem to recall something…but it was before my time here…When the Hutts still ran the Docks…"

Canderous narrowed his eyes and nodded. "Yes. The bloats had set up an elevator system that led down to LowCity. They were too lazy to slither to the front bloody door."

Bastila glanced at both of them incredulously. "The Sith aren't _that _sloppy. Surely they would have secured any such Accessway upon arrival?"

"No," Carth shook his head. "They may not have had time. I've seen these sorts of modular constructions before. Hell, they're probably using the elevator for cargo purposes."

Lal smiled back at the Sith and tapped her blade against the computer console. "Get to work, Nam, dear."

The Sith nodded reluctantly, and glanced at his two subordinates. They both tried their level best to appear invisible. He cursed under his breath at them and sat down. His fingers danced across the keyboard, entering commands and walking through menus. He tapped a final command and scooted back in his chair.

Lal and Canderous leaned in to examine the displays on the screen. "I don't see anything," Lal murmured with a frown.

Canderous pointed at a closed off section. "There. They put up security walls around it. I'd bet real money they closed down power to it. Yes. You can tell. These conduits here? The blue ones? They are all active. But you can see one leading to…this junction here…that's not active." He snatched the Sith by his shoulder and yanked him forward. "You. Reactivate this power conduit."

"I…I…I'm sorry! I can't do it from here!"

Canderous grimaced and pressed his blaster into the man's face.

"I wish I c-could!" Tanno cried desperately. "We don't have system access to the power grid from here! We just organize datafiles! I swear!"

"He's being truthful," Bastila told the Mandalorian. "While he does not wish to cooperate, he's too terrified of you to deceive us."

Zaalbar barked out speculatively, drawing everyone's attention to him.

"What'd he say?" Canderous asked Lal.

Lal walked over to Zaalbar and folded her arms. "You sure?" she asked him. The Wookiee nodded and patted an equipment pouch on his bandolier. Lal smiled up at him. "I knew there was a reason I kept you around, Carpet. Alright. Zaalbar says he can reconnect the couplings and restore power."

"Well then," Bastila began, lifting her chin, "I suggest we keep moving."

Mission enjoyed Shopping, she decided. It was a relatively new experience for her, given that she had never had any money. Shopping was one of the few lasting contributions humans had made to galactic society. Oh, there had always been some sort of trade on a thousand different worlds; but only humans seemed to Shop simply for the purpose of mental distraction. Lal had told Mission that Shopping had a meditative value. It focused the mind. Examining—and purchasing—various items allowed one to expand beyond the desperate limitations of the "now." Initially, Mission hadn't understood that; she'd even suspected Lal had been feeding her a line just to keep her from tagging along on their secret mission. But after trying on two luxuriously slinky dresses, Mission began to see what Lal meant.

And since it was Lal's money, that made it all the better.

Carrying several large bags stuffed with clothes, Mission realized that Shopping also meant she was now and forever more a free woman. Even though she drew incredulous stares from the UpCity sales attendants, when Mission flashed her cred-stick, people warmed to her instantly. They gave her a new and obviously precious title: "_Ma'am_."

Now, as Mission sat back in a new pair of iridescent Firian skin boots, in a lustrous tunic woven of fine Andal silk, she discovered another transcendent ritual associated with Shopping. After having laid down nearly a thousand credits on something called lingerie, she was now being treated to a manicure. The delicate, tiny claws on her fingertips were being polished and painted with a smooth, clear sheen that bent light like a prism. And her lekku hung back limply from her skull, glistening from an acid peel that left them feeling tingly and smooth.

The normally ill-tempered humans of UpCity completely forgot she was a mere Twi'lek alien; now, she belonged. Even if it was only while she spent Lal's money, it felt good nonetheless.

After she was done, Mission decided to take a speeder rail to Pulsar Row, an impossibly high class Arcology of shops and boutiques frequented only by the wealthiest of Taris's upper crust. Her lekku were positively glowing, and she bristled with excitement. She caught the eye of several passengers on the rail, and she smiled. Their attention was different than the desperately lustful stares she'd gotten as a joygirl dancer. The eyes that fell upon her clothes and her shape were…appreciative.

Mission enjoyed it.

A shadow passed across her shoulders and Mission glanced around behind her with a pleasant grin. Her eyes bulged and she gasped.

"Hello, joygirl," Calo Nord chuckled, his lips twisted in a cruel sneer. Mission noticed that he had two of Davik's thugs with him.

Calo plopped down on the seat beside her, pressing against her with the sharp angles of all the weapons holstered on his dense, squat form. He laid a heavy arm across her shoulders and whistled a pleasant little ditty. It sounded obscene coming from his lips.

"I don't care about you, blue-skin," Calo sighed, not looking at her. "I mean, I'd as soon kill you as look at you." He spoke in a conversational tone, as if they were simply discussing the weather. Or arena stats.

He slipped a tiny, wickedly curved knife from the depths of his jacket, and gently trailed the serrated edge along the length of her bare thigh. It slipped underneath the edge of her tunic, and Mission froze. Calo smiled again and pulled her tunic back just enough to reveal the tattoo wrapped around her thigh. He chuckled and tapped her tattoo with his blade.

"This says you're property, little one," he whispered into the conical bone plate of her ear. "It says I can do anything I want to you."

"What do you--"

He pressed a finger to her lips and closed his eyes. He gave a tiny shake of his head to silence her questions. "Before we get into that, let me tell you how difficult it is to saw off a finger with a blade. Not a vibroblade, mind you." He lifted his knife before her eyes, and Mission's heart nearly stopped. "Something…a bit more…traditional. It takes rather a long time, you know? Takes some effort to cut through the bone. But with the right tools and a certain amount of dedication, it can be done. Most efficiently." He brushed a gloved hand down the length of her left lekku. "Do those…_things_ have…bones in them?"

Mission could barely make her lips work. "N-n-no…"

"Ah. Well, they'd be a lot easier to sever completely, then." He drew the flat of his knife down the surface of her left lekku, and her skin curdled. She felt her body jerking away from him, but he clenched her tightly against him and clicked his tongue admonishingly. "Now, now. We're all friends here. Give us a smile, Mission."

With his knife, he gently pressed at the corner of her mouth. Her entire body trembled.

"A smile. Not so difficult, hmm? Eh. Alright. I'll ask this one time, Mission: where is Lal?"

Mission squeezed her eyes shut, knowing what would follow. "I don't know."

His hand flicked. The knife blurred. A gash opened down the side of her cheek. Mission released a scream, but Calo clamped his free hand over her mouth.

"Now, now," he shushed her, "that'll heal just fine. Don't cry. No need for tears. If you wish, I won't leave anything that will make a scar. Or…"

"Dammit," she gasped, tearing his hand from her mouth and thinking fast, "I don't know! She said something about a meeting with a Sith Commander! She didn't tell me anything else! I swear!"

Calo sighed and nodded. "I see." He glanced down at the bags between her feet, and used his knife to hold one of the bags open. "Hmm. Expensive. Good taste. You know what I like about women? Hmm? They're all the same. No, it doesn't matter what species; they all have certain similarities. You don't agree? They are always, _always_ precious things. Precious like a meal to a hungry man. Now some women are smart. They realize their value. They let it work to their favor. You…you're still a little girl. You haven't yet realized your worth, Mission. But it's right there in front of you. This tattoo? That's a hint."

Mission swallowed a dry lump in her throat. She felt a tear roll down her cheek. Slowly, she turned to Calo and narrowed her eyes. "I'm going t-to d-die free, you bounty hunting…_scum_! So…you…if you're going to k-kill me…spare me the chit-chat…"

Calo chuckled and shook his head. "I'm not going to kill you. I haven't been told to. But you won't die free, Twi'lek. No. Not free. Davik wants you back. And he wants Lal, too. But she, on the other hand, she just might die free."

Lal pumped off two more shots as two more Sith charged around the corner. She dropped them both and glanced at Zaalbar's massive back, huddled over an exposed power relay. "How much longer, Carpet?"

He roared an insult over his shoulder and told her to shut up.

"I don't mean to rush you, big guy," Carth said firing away with both blasters as more troopers appeared. "But we can't hold this spot forever…Lal! On your right!"

Lal dropped to one knee and spun. She blasted a soldier at point blank range in his chest. Zaalbar snarled that he was finished and reached for his rifle. Lal lifted her wrist comp and spoke into it. "Alright Canderous blow it. We're falling back."

Lal backed up, still firing at the troops before her. Carth covered her retreat, and waited for Zaalbar to dash past him before he too, fell back.

The three of them ran down the corridor to the very end where Canderous and Bastila stood flat against a wall. Canderous squeezed a palm-detonator and charges dislodged the wall at the end of the corridor. It fell down flat with a _whump_, revealing an open space behind the wall. Bastila stepped inside and located a control panel. Activation lights gleamed across its surface beneath a layer of cold dust.

"It's working!" she called out, tentatively punching at the controls with her finger. "Anyone know exactly where this will take us?"

Lal jumped in beside her, her breath streaming in and out in sharp gasps. "Down?"

Zaalbar growled his warbling agreement and joined them. Carth and Canderous fired down the corridor at the troopers steadily advancing on them. Canderous popped a plasma grenade and tossed it down the hall at the Sith. They scattered, but didn't have enough room to escape the blast.

The pressure wave slammed Carth into Lal and Zaalbar, hurling all three down. Canderous flew above them and landed in a crouch at Bastila's feet. The explosion rocked the floor beneath them and Bastila activated the elevator. It shuddered heavily and dropped downward with a groan.

They all ducked as tongues of fire licked over them from the detonation.

The elevator trundled down a dark, creaking shaft, lit only by AyVee's blue and red lights. He squeaked out a tiny whistle as he scanned the shaft. Lal glanced at the palm-display that Janice had given her; it provided a direct link to several of his systems. The tiny screen displayed the results of his scan.

"Looks like the bottom of the shaft is closed off," she warned.

"Predictable," Bastila groaned. She ignited her lightsaber in the darkness. The elevator rumbled to a halt and Bastila's lightsaber flashed. It cut into the wall effortlessly, hissing through solid durasteel plate. She carved an exit into the wall and held up her hand before it. With a nudge of her will, the section of the wall flew free.

They stepped out into darkness. Lal went first, stumbling over a pile of metal boxes. "Dammit," she hissed as Carth caught her. She turned back and smiled to him as he clutched her arm. "Mmm. My hero."

Bastila rolled her eyes. "Please. Can we focus?"

They all climbed out of the elevator and Canderous pulled out a satchel charge. He opened the top and armed it.

"Aw, for crying out loud!" Carth exclaimed, staring at the grinning Mandalorian. "Where do you get all of this stuff?"

Canderous chuckled and tossed the charge back into the elevator behind them. "Relax, 'Public. We don't want them following us down, do we?"

"No," Carth agreed. "But you're still a maniac."

"I'm wounded," Canderous snorted. "By the way, duck."

They all crouched low as the charge blew, hurling a cloud of heat and light over them. Zaalbar roared and clapped his paws against his ears. He chewed off a string of acidic Wookiee curses, firing insults at the Mandalorian. AyVee started whistling and beeping loudly. Carth yelled angrily at Canderous and grabbed him around the collar.

"You idiot!" Carth cried out, balling up his fist. "You could've killed us all!"

"Take your hands off me, dog," Canderous growled back at him.

"Carth!" Bastila called, grabbing his fist before he could punch Canderous. "We don't have time for displays of macho hostility…"

"That's it, Jedi," Canderous grinned dangerously, "call your dog off before I make him beg."

Lal knew a fight was coming. Canderous was eager for it of course, but there was no way she'd allow him to kill Carth. She moved to stop them, but noticed AyVee's insistent bleating. She glanced down at her palm-top and sucked in a deep breath. "Oh hell…"

"What is it?" Bastila asked her while Carth and Canderous continued to yell at each other.

"Down!" Lal cried out.

A brace of blaster bolts sprayed towards them from the darkness. Bastila held up her lightsaber and deflected several of the blasts. But the sheer power of the shots shoved her backwards and nearly wrenched the lightsaber from her grasp.

Something from the darkness took a few clanking steps towards them, and Lal saw a cluster of glowing red lights, mashed together like an insect's compound eyes. A dull hum buzzed towards them, and a gleaming metal shape skittered slowly towards them. It had long segmented legs, like a spider, but its body…its _chassis_ was composed of hard, sharp angles and thick armor plating. It swiveled a flat head, bristling with glowing red sensors and locked onto the group. Behind its head, twin blaster cannons cranked loudly towards them and opened fire again.

Lal and the others scattered across the floor as the blasterfire exploded behind them in a shower of flame and superheated air.

"Sentry droid!" Carth shouted out, his blaster pistols blazing at the machine. "Armor's too thick for conventional blasters!"

Lal was already moving and snapping off a few shots of her own. "Then why are you shooting it? To make it mad?" She jumped into a sidelong roll as a bolt of fire destroyed the floor beneath her. The explosion hurled her through the air and she landed hard on her belly.

"The only vulnerable spot is directly beneath the sensor module," Carth called back. "Beneath the head!"

"It is no match for the power of the Force," Bastila promised, soaring through the air and flipping over the top of the droid. As she landed, she unleashed both glowing blades of her lightsaber. "I will destroy this monstrosity."

Her lightsaber screamed and bled golden light as it tore spirals through the air and sizzled into the armor of the droid. Smoke rose from the droid's body in white clouds as Bastila chopped and slashed and stabbed at it. It spun the twin cannons around and fired point blank at Bastila. She rocketed straight up into the air, and kicked her legs up over her head. Flipping upside down, she brought her blade down in an inverted arc, chopping through the cannons.

Bastila landed in a crouch and closed down one blade. She thrust upwards, spearing the droid beneath the head module. Her lightsaber burned through the top of the head, melting its targeting sensors. The droid shuddered for a long moment, before Bastila closed down her blade entirely. The droid collapsed in a smoldering heap.

Lal and Carth and Zaalbar just stared in awe where they had thrown themselves to the ground seconds before. Canderous picked himself up and snorted derisively at Bastila's efforts.

"Always easier with a lightsaber," he grunted.

Lal stood slowly and placed her hands on her hips. "Okay, I'll admit it, that was rather impressive, Bastila."

Bastila let a smile peek out from her lips. "Well, it's not a Rancor, but thank you, Lal."

Lal's cheeks reddened and she glanced at Carth. "You told her about the Rancor?"

When they arrived back at the Hidden Beks' base, the first thing Lal did was collapse in the chair of the office they'd taken over. Zaalbar howled in exhaustion and dropped his bandolier heavily on the floor. AyVee followed them in and immediately plugged himself into a dusty old power converter they'd salvaged. He released a long and contented whistle.

"Shower," Lal croaked weakly. "That's all I want."

Instead, she got Bastila. The young Jedi strolled into the room, utterly untouched by the fatigue that seemed to burden everyone else. In fact, she was smiling. She paused at the doorway and clasped her hands contritely behind her back.

"Lal?" she asked softly, "May I speak with you?"

Lal groaned and sat forward behind the desk. She propped her elbows on the desk and sighed. "Shoot."

"Well, I…I just wanted to say…Well…what I mean to say is that…I had my doubts…about your plan…and mind you, I was correct that it did not go off without a…a _hitch_, but…"

"Bastila, you sure have a hard time with apologies, don't you?"

"I'm not apologizing!" Bastila exclaimed defensively. "I honestly don't feel I have anything to apologize for, Lal."

"Then what did you come here to say? That instead of a _complete idiot,_ I'm only a _partial idiot_? How generous of you."

"That's not…I didn't come here to insult you!"

Lal rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Really? You didn't come here to apologize. You didn't come here to insult me. So what _did_ you come here for?"

"I…I…Ohh! Why do you make it so difficult? You've never been easy to talk to! Nevermind!"

Lal arched an eyebrow in confusion and shot to her feet. "Bastila…"

Bastila ignored her and whirled around to storm out of the office. She walked right into Carth, however. Canderous and Gadon Theck were behind him.

"Lal," Carth began gravely, "we've got problems."

Lal cocked her head to the side to fire off a bit of sarcasm. But a clump of frozen acid burned deep in her belly. "Mission…where's Mission?"

Gadon stepped into the room with a heavy sigh. "Mission slipped out of the compound…we don't know when exactly. I sent out some people to find her…Lal…Davik's got her. One of my people found this at Javyar's."

He handed over a small Holo-card. Lal took it and a message appeared in golden letters floating in the air just above the card's surface:

_Mr. Davik Kang Awaits the Pleasure of Lal Sideen's Company_

And as it faded, another message appeared:

_Don't screw this Mission up…_

"Oh hell," Lal murmured, collapsing back in her seat. "Davik has her. He's going to kill her. He's going to kill her…"

"Lal," Carth said, walking over to her. He laid a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off violently. He sighed and pulled back. "Lal, he's not gonna kill her."

"He might as well," Lal groaned. "You know what he's going to make her do. She's too young. She's…she's too weak to survive it. That…that stupid little girl! Why didn't she just stay here like I told her?"

"It's obviously a trap," Canderous said casually. "He's expecting that you'll go to rescue the fool girl. Davik has obviously reasoned that you care for her. And he's right."

Carth glared around at Canderous with a simmering rage burning in his eyes. "You make it sound like caring for anyone or anything is a weakness."

Canderous shrugged. "It is. And it makes you vulnerable. It limits what you are willing to sacrifice in order to achieve victory."

"Caring also gives you something to fight for," Carth growled, folding his arms across his chest.

"True," Canderous admitted. "Men would never fight and die if they cared about nothing. And if there were no men to care, there would be no enemies to learn what it is that they care about…and exploit it."

Everyone fell silent for a moment, absorbing the cold truth of Canderous' words.

"And do you care about nothing, Canderous Ordo?" Bastila asked.

Canderous glanced at her in surprise and chuckled. "Me? Well, if you are asking, is there anything I would die to protect, the answer is yes. Not just 'yes', but _of course_. But my vulnerabilities are not subject for your inspection and analysis, Jedi."

Bastila thought about what he said and nodded. "Of course, Mandalorian. I suppose the answer is Lal's to give."

Lal glanced up at Bastila. Her brow furrowed at the young woman. A warm rage rose unbidden and unexplained in her thoughts. Lal's hands clenched into tight fists against her thighs and she shut her eyes. Bastila infuriated her for no apparent reason, with her constant talk of the Jedi and the Republic; her superior tone, her incessant arguing. As if she had something to prove.

But it was not Bastila with whom Lal was truly angry. It was herself. She had allowed herself to care about Mission. To…to _love_ her like she was a sister. She was just a vacuum-brained little Twi'lek who was too fragile to survive life in the bowels of Taris. And she was going to pay for it. Stupid girl that she was!

Well, Lal had had enough of charity, of caring. She was sick to her heart of it. She'd already bled for too many people that, by all rights, should have meant nothing. Less than nothing. She had done all she could for Mission already. She owed the girl—no. The woman—nothing more.

Mission was dangerous. She was…a liability to Lal. She was a liability, because Lal _did_ care about her; cared about her well-being. She couldn't simply leave Mission to the fate Davik likely had planned for her. _Idiot girl_! And of course, Canderous was right; this was a trap. And it was a trap Mission had unwittingly baited. Lal couldn't let this happen to Mission, but she didn't want to waltz right into Davik's clutches.

But Lal also realized; it no longer mattered.

She had to pay a call on Davik. She had to get in and get his ship, the Ebon Hawk. It was the fastest ship on the planet, and Lal needed it. So that was simply that.

She rose to her feet and forced a sheet of calm to settle over her features. "I'm going to rescue Mission." She caught Canderous' eye and the Mandalorian smiled. He knew her plan, of course. "Davik and I have unfinished business."

"Lal," Carth piped up. "I'm with you."

She paused and frowned. Something in her wanted to say _no!_ She didn't want him involved in this business. But it was his business, wasn't it? Their paths had become one. She had no say in the matter.

She nodded at him.

"Bastila?" Lal said, "I…I know you have no reason to help me, but…"

Bastila smiled warmly at Lal. "You don't even need to ask, Lal. Of course I'll help you." She walked over and laid her hand on Lal's. "I…what I wanted to say earlier, Lal…I was wrong about you. You've just shown that. I'd be proud to stand with you."

Lal blinked her eyes incredulously. She opened her mouth to speak, but found no words. "I…I…thank you."

"I'll give you what help I can, Lal," Gadon told her. "Mission's as much family as you are."

"No," Lal said, a bit too swiftly. "No. I won't risk you or your people, Gadon. Zaalbar…I want you to remain here as well. It will be too risky."

Zaalbar howled defiantly and shook his massive fist at her.

"No!" Lal cried. "I don't care about your honor or your debt to me! You will stay here and that's all there is to it!"

"Lal," Carth said, "we're gonna need his help. There's no other way around it. Besides, he's right: he can make his own decisions. I don't understand Shryiiwook as well as you, but it sounds like he's already made his mind up."

Zaalbar nodded resolutely and folded his long shaggy arms across his chest.

"Dammit," Lal hissed at him. "Stupid Wookiee…"

"So," Canderous said loudly, walking around to lean against the desk. "Does anyone have anything closely approximating a plan?"

"You're coming, Mandalorian?" Carth asked, utterly shocked.

"Heh. Not for any sentimental reasons, I assure you, 'Public. Davik has something we need in addition to Lal's little friend. A ship. I see no reason not to punish his actions with Mission by taking that ship from him."

"I hate to say it, Lal," Bastila said, "but Canderous is right. We can rescue Mission _and_ commandeer a vessel. I know how you feel about Mission, Lal. Davik thinks we're walking into a trap. And we are. But we know this. And we can turn it against him."

"I suppose you're right, Bastila. I suppose you're right. And I think I have a plan…"


	10. Chapter 7

7: The Path of the Righteous

Darth Malak stood at the forecastle of the Leviathan's bridge and stared coldly down at the crisp, blue-white surface of Taris swelling far below. At one point in his life, he might have found the sight of the planet beautiful. At one point in his life, he would have fought with his dying breath to preserve that beauty.

But of course, that had been before Revan. Before the Star Forge.

Once, Malak had been a Jedi, and a hero. He and Revan had been…Malak had followed Revan blindly, foolishly. Revan's charisma had been undeniable. Revan's logic, irrefutable.

At the time, it had seemed the only way to save the galaxy from chaos. Now, there was only Malak's way.

On the planet below him, he knew Bastila Shan was hiding from him. He could sense her presence, as she, no doubt could sense his. Malak did not know why the Jedi Council had sent Bastila to this far-flung world so far removed from the beaten path. But he wasn't entirely certain that he cared. Bastila was a dangerous opponent. Oh, to be sure, she was little more than a child, younger even than Bandon, his apprentice. And her Jedi skills remained unfocused.

But Bastila was dangerous for her Battle Meditation, her ability to manipulate entire armies. Malak had seen it in operation only once; during Revan's attack on the Republic forces. That had been a cleverly crafted trap. The Jedi maneuvered Revan out into the open by providing an irresistible target. And Revan, the fool, had fallen right into it, against Malak's counsel. Together, they had watched while Bastila's power made fools of their armies, dulled the wits of their pilots and officers, while inspiring the Republic dogs to victory.

And she had used the ensuing chaos to go after Revan directly. Malak had been given no choice then. He had done what he had to do. For the glory of the Sith, yes; but even more so, to further the plan.

And now, the plan was at risk once more. All because of pretty little Bastila.

Malak wanted Bastila, to crush her within his iron grasp and turn her to his cause. Though she was brave, she had a weak mind. He'd felt the shadow over her heart. But she eluded him. She eluded his best efforts. She eluded Bandon. And she hid herself away on that beautiful planet far, far below.

Darth Malak, Lord of the Sith whirled away from the viewscreen and fixed Admiral Karath with his frosty glare. "Admiral, how long would it take to maneuver our ships into planetary bombardment range?"

Karath glanced up in surprise where he leaned over the chair of one of his officers. "My Lord? Ah…" he reached down past the officer to press a few controls on her station console. He read the results of his check and glanced up at Malak. "For maximum fire-for-effect, it would require an hour."

Malak nodded and glanced back at the viewscreen. Something strange…a feeling of familiar dread washed through him with a chill. He clasped his massive fists behind him and sighed. "Signal the Gladius and the Cestus, Admiral. We will move into bombardment range. Alert the flight deck. Launch bomber squadrons."

Karath frowned and stepped up onto the command-walkway with Malak. "Er…my Lord…we still have soldiers deployed on the surface. Our own men…Shall I order the withdrawal of our forces?"

Malak growled through the respirator mask clutching his chin and jaw and his eyes flared. "Admiral, you have my orders. I want that planet razed to the very core. Do you require me to repeat myself?"

Karath visibly wilted beneath his master's gaze. He stepped backwards and nodded. "It...it will be as you wish, my Lord Malak…"

Tetrian Heights was a golden canyon of glass and glittering alloy that spanned nearly ten kilometers. The cluster of high-class Arcologies soared over the gleaming towers of Taris like pillars holding up the sky. The rich and the powerful of Taris lived here. Even the modest apartments within the shining depths of Tetrian Heights housed some of the wealthiest Tarisians on the planet. But the truly mighty made their homes on the very peaks of these mountainous Arcologies. There, vast penthouse plazas lounged in defiant repose against the ripping icy winds and the unadulterated radiation beaming down from the sun. Hundreds of kilometers in the sky, these dwellings were protected behind invisible atmosphere shields, blunting the sub-zero temperatures and the scalding ultraviolet rays.

Davik Kang's vast estate rested at the top of Hydrian Tower. It stretched for several hundred rolling meters, with low roofs and plazas that stood open to the air. It was a complex of numerous buildings; short towers and squat minarets. In the center of the complex stood a tiny artificial forest, writhing with semi-mobile plant life imported from the forest world of Hayanna.

Davik used the top floor of his compound mainly as advertisement; he brought his most treasured clients and business partners here. The open rooms and piazzas hosted sprawling pools and cozy lounges where half naked joygirls frolicked. Below the top floor, hidden from sight, lurked the corridors and chambers in which he did his true business. There, he had labs that refined spice loads stolen from the Kessel Run; workshops that counterfeited cred-sticks and other currencies from local Systems. His soldiers were quartered there, and a landing bay housed a number of ships and transports for his personal use.

One of those transports, a sleek, low-slung air speeder, came humming over the top of the compound and dropped slowly towards a landing pad beside the Forest. Davik stood there waiting, flanked by four of his thugs. Calo Nord stood off to the side, absently watching as a giggling, scantily clad Zabrak joygirl led a _client_ by the hand into the shifting depths of the Forest.

After the speeder came to a rest on an anti-grav cushion, the side hatch opened up. Lal Sideen stumbled out, bleeding freely from the nose and mouth. She nearly collapsed, but Canderous Ordo climbed out behind her and steadied her with a gauntleted hand. Two of Davik's hunters followed, clad entirely in armor, shoving Lal's Wookiee with a pair of shock sticks. The Wookiee howled in pain and struggled to free himself from a pair of manacles chained to a collar around his neck.

Davik coked his head to the side in annoyance. "Why ain't she chained up, Canderous?"

"Actually, Davik," Canderous sighed, jerking Lal towards Davik by her shirt collar, "she came along willingly."

Davik eyed her up and down as Canderous steered her in front of him. "Willingly, huh? Then what's with all the blood? Did you have to convince her to come 'willingly'?"

Lal glanced back at Canderous and spat a glob of blood onto his blue and silver chest plate.

"We had a disagreement," Canderous chuckled.

"What is this about, Davik?" Lal demanded.

"Oh, so it's questions, I guess," Davik said, rolling his eyes. "Come on Lal. You know better than to play the fool, eh? I taught you better than that, eh? It's bad enough that you try to steal one of my girls. And then I see you onna vids getting' inta gang business…I start thinkin'; what's Lal up to? Is she tryin' ta move on me? After all I done for her?"

"I suppose you think that's any of your business…" Lal growled.

Davik grinned at her. And backhanded her savagely. She dropped to the ground, blood spraying from her mouth. Davik stared down at her in disgust. "Such a pretty little girl. I'm gonna make you ugly, Lal. You got my word on that."

"Davik…you son of a…You gave me an impossible task…get close to the Sith…" Lal struggled back to her feet, but fell backwards on her bottom. "What do you think I was trying to do?"

"Aw come on. I ain't stupid. Running that gang race ain't got a thing t'do with the Sith."

"You're wrong," Lal gasped, rolling weakly onto her side. "I found out that th-the Vulkars were holding s-someone the Sith wanted. B-badly. A Jedi…named Bastila Shan."

Davik arched his eyebrows at Calo and Canderous.

"Th-that's right, Davik," Lal murmured, wiping her sleeve across her red mouth. "The race was part of an operation…to distract the gangs…while…while my people stole Bastila…"

Davik knelt down before Lal and brushed the hair from her eyes. "The vids showed you killing Brejik, baby. What's that got t'do with this Jedi?"

"It was a b-bonus," she hissed, hanging her head. "He green-lighted his boys to ambush me outside of the Daystar. Everyone involved in that is going to bleed." She accentuated her promise with a barbed glare at Calo.

"Lal…" Davik began, frowning in uncertainty.

"You don't trust me, fine," Lal glared up at him. "It won't hurt my feelings. But if you want me to do my job, then _let _me do my job. The way I see fit."

Davik sighed and snapped his fingers. "Take the Wookiee down below. You two;" he gestured to two of his boys. "Bring her."

Davik poured himself a straight shot of Flanna and watched as Lal stood in the fresher, washing the blood from her face. She had removed her shirt, which was soaked with blood anyway. And Davik noticed all the bruises along her ribcage. He saw the dark scar of a blaster shot on her shoulder.

"You been through the wringer, honey," he said, taking a sip.

Lal dabbed a towel to her face and swept her hair back from her face with wet hands. She hurled the towel away and stepped into Davik's office. Canderous stood by the door, his helmet cradled in his arm. Calo sat in a couch along the wall.

Davik sat behind his desk and leaned back in his chair. He gestured to the chair in front of his desk. "Sit."

Lal tossed a wary glance at Canderous and Calo, and did as she was told. She wore only a thin halter top and a black leather skirt that gleamed as it drank up the light in the room. She tried to cross her legs casually, but the motion shoved a twinge of pain through her body.

Davik's eyes drifted down to the tops of her knees, just visible beyond the edge of his desk. "You been rode hard an' put away wet, alright," he told her. "Okay Lal. Tell me why I'm not cutting your tongue out right now."

"Because I'm telling you the truth."

"Uh-uh. Try it again, sweetness. See, I know some things. Fact: you stole the Twi'lek. She was primo skin, too. I'm sore about that. Fact: you been burnin' down Vulkars left and right, and I don't see that it had a hell of a lot t'do with this Jedi. Fact: unless I'm mistaken, you ain't got either the Jedi, or the Sith in your pocket. Not that there's a whole lotta room in that skirt for pockets. Heh. So call me a liar. Tell me I'm wrong."

"You're…right. On all counts. I ordered Mission not to return to work. She…I can't explain it. I felt sorry for her. I've been killing Vulkars to find this Jedi. I had the Jedi in my possession. But when Canderous and his thugs attacked, she was able to escape. You can blame him for that."

"Is this true, Canderous"

Canderous shrugged. "I saw a woman. She may have been a Jedi. Since you told me only to retrieve Sideen, I was not concerned about this other one. However…she did not appear to be in Lal's custody. In fact, they seemed rather chummy to me."

Davik turned back to Lal for explanation.

"She trusts me," Lal said. "I _did_ rescue her from the Vulkars."

"It's possible, I suppose," Canderous relented. "Not my style. But she works differently."

"You're a vile thug," Lal fired at him. "And you've damned near ruined everything."

"'Damned near'?" Davik asked, leaning forward over his drink. "Is there a way this can be salvaged?"

Lal purposely glanced at her wrist-comp to check the time. "Possibly. Did you injure Zaalbar?"

"Your Wookiee?" Davik asked. "He's in a holding cell downstairs. Are you expecting someone?"

"No," Lal said, smiling at Davik and taking a deep breath. "But you are. Or rather…you should be."

"Lal…I'm willin' ta give you benefit of the doubt. Given our history together. But don't torque me off. I'll kill you as soon as look at you."

"Why is that, Davik? Haven't I always done what you've told me? Have I ever betrayed you?"

"I…No, you haven't Lal. Of course you haven't. Alright. Tell me what's goin' on."

"First, Davik, let's take a walk, shall we?"

Zaalbar hung his head and moaned softly As Canderous' two hunters rather clumsily led him to the cells down below.

"Do either of you have an idea where we're going?" Bastila asked, pulling her helmet off. Beside her, Carth did the same, and shrugged.

Zaalbar sighed in dismay and shut the two humans out as they began arguing. For creatures with such a limited vocal range, humans sure did a lot of talking. They loved to hear themselves speak. He did his best to ignore them; he had determined a while ago that neither Carth nor Bastila really had anything important to say. But they seemed to be a positive influence on Lal. Well, Carth seemed to be, at least. But Zaalbar had grown tired of waiting for Carth to claim Lal as his mate. Human lifespans were too short for the elaborate courting rituals they seemed to prefer. Zaalbar was convinced Lal's disposition would be a lot more positive with a pup or two of her own.

Mission was good for Lal, too. Zaalbar liked Mission; liked the way she smelled. When the girl wasn't babbling about something or the other, her presence was actually quite soothing. He just hoped that Davik had not injured her. Zaalbar would rip the man's head free of his shoulders if Mission was hurt.

In any way.

Zaalbar let Bastila and Carth argue and scented the air. He inhaled deeply and tasted the air at the same time, hanging his mouth open. His nose had led them to the slave quarters, where the air was moist with the wet reek of human sex. Humans weren't entirely repulsive things, but their lack of fur meant their naturally sour scents escaped from their flesh to mingle with the air. Twi'leks had no body hair whatsoever, but even though they were bare-skins, they had a different chemical make-up than humans. Didn't stink.

He caught scent of at least two Twi'lek females and paused in the corridor. Carth and Bastila nearly collided into his back. He turned around and shushed their babbling. There was something else staining the air besides the Twi'lek scent. Something tangy.

Blood.

Zaalbar cried out in alarm and thundered towards the source of the scent. He led them to a door and scented again. He could smell a Twi'lek and a human, and sweat. The blood stink issued from the same place. Fear stumbled through his brain and he searched frantically for a keypad to open the door. He found a single flat panel and jammed it hard with his paw. The door hissed open and the blood scent slammed Zaalbar in the face.

"Mission!" Carth cried. Zaalbar looked and saw the little Twi'lek girl hanging from the far wall, suspended by a pair of manacles. Dark blood streaked her body, and she sagged limply. Zaalbar howled and glanced around the room. He saw a fat human whose knuckles were painted maroon with Mission's blood.

Zaalbar bared his fangs in challenge and hurled himself at the man with a savage snarl. The man raised a bloodied knife to ward Zaalbar off, but the Wookiee let the blade slide off his thick coat. A massive paw slammed down on the man's forearm, shattering it.

The human screamed, but Zaalbar clamped a paw over his mouth. He squeezed, popping the man's jaw out of joint. Zaalbar swung the human around and into a wall. He heard the human's spine crack wetly and watched him slide to the floor.

"Oh no, Mission!" Carth gasped, moving to her side. Zaalbar stormed towards mission and shoved Carth out of the way. He cradled Mission gently, holding her up in his arms. He crooned softly to her to wake up, but her eyes were swollen shut. She hung limply in Zaalbar's grasp and he saw cuts and slashes all over her body. He moaned as he searched for a pulse, but the thick pads on his fingertips kept him from finding it. Or maybe she was dead.

"Zaalbar," Bastila whispered at his side. "Please let me help."

Zaalbar wondered exactly what the Jedi could possibly do. Bastila reached out to touch the side of Mission's throat. And suddenly, the girl's left eye opened. She coughed weakly, spitting forth a thread of blood.

"Lal," she gurgled, staring into Bastila's eyes. "I'm so glad you came for me…I'm so sleepy…"

Bastila gently slapped Mission's cheek to keep her awake. "Stay with us, Mission. Zaalbar's here. Lal is here too."

Mission nodded and her head lolled against Zaalbar's chest. Zaalbar howled at the girl to stay awake. "Mmm awake," she grunted.

"Hold still, Mission," Bastila said. She reached out and pressed her hand against Mission's brow. Zaalbar stared between the two in confusion; Bastila's eyes fluttered closed as he watched, and beads of sweat broke out along her brow. Bastila sucked in a deep breath between trembling lips and held it in. Her face reddened and Zaalbar saw a vein along her temple tense.

And then Mission released a deep breath. Mission looked up At Zaalbar and Bastila, opening her left eye; the other remained badly swollen. She stood up in Zaalbar's grasp and the Wookiee's eyes watered. He cried out in disbelief and amazement and hugged Mission gently to his body.

"Hey b-big Z…" she murmured.

Bastila swayed dizzily, and reached out to grab Zaalbar's shoulder for support. Carth stepped forward to hold her, but Bastila smiled weakly and waved his hands away. "Mission, how do you feel?"

"I feel l-like I'm chained up in a dungeon and have just b-been t-tortured…"

"Hold still, Mission," Bastila warned, unleashing her lightsaber. She just barely touched it to the manacles around Missions wrists, and the heavy links popped free in a shower of sparks. Mission staggered into Zaalbar's grasp, but she managed to stand on her own.

Zaalbar told her that she would have died without Bastila's help. He'd never seen anything quite like it. Mission glanced up at him, piecing together his words effortlessly. Carth and Bastila had a bit more trouble. Mission turned to Bastila and nodded her thanks.

"So guys…what's the plan?"

"Lal's here," Carth said, squeezing Mission's shoulder.

"Oh no…" Mission moaned softly. "It's a trap! I was the bait…Carth, they're gonna kill her!"

Carth swallowed and glanced at both Zaalbar and Bastila. "Listen, Mission, we know it's a trap. We snuck in. Lal's doing her best to distract this guy's attention…"

"Everything will be alright, Mission," Bastila told her. "I promise I won't allow any harm to come to Lal. Do not worry. We shall make it through this."

Zaalbar wasn't so sure, but he said nothing. They'd probably misunderstand him anyway.

Carth glanced at his wrist-chrono and sighed. "Okay Zaalbar, if that droid's on-schedule, we should be _go._ Here's where we part company, big guy. Good luck."

Zaalbar laid a paw on Carth's shoulder and asked him to promise to protect Lal.

Carth smiled up at the Wookiee and glanced at Bastila. "Don't worry big guy. We'll bring her back for you."

AyVee puttered along, skimming the ceilings of Davik's stronghold; happily, he streamed a comforting data tree through his main processors, finding an almost musical harmonic to the numbers composing the data his sensors gathered. Several times, he almost stopped to examine the data stream more closely, but his programming architecture reminded him he was on a mission to serve The Lal.

AyVee distantly realized that he required constant reminding of his tasks. For some reason, he grew easily distracted. He could hardly be blamed for this, he decided; he _was_ experiencing the world for the first time, after all. He had a responsibility to gather as much information as possible.

For example, colors: AyVee had already compiled extensive information about colors. He had classified nearly ten million colors already, the overwhelming majority of which went unnoticed by simplistic organic visual receptors. Who would take the time to sit back and appreciate the spectrum of visual variation that was color? Organics did not seem to have time…or the multi-tasking capabilities.

Then, there was language: his databanks had extensive files about various spoken languages, but in his monitoring of lower band global transmissions, he had begun to compile a database on a variety of previously unclassified dialects and so-called "patois". Organic communication was a patchwork of astounding variety and versatility. Invariably, this led him to some dismay over his own hideously under-appreciated digital communication. Even the Lal had yet to fully grasp his method of speech. Certainly, it would have been easier if he had been designed to communicate in simple idiot Basic, but his design architecture had already been stuffed with so many capabilities.

Perhaps his Maker simply had no more room for conventional speech.

As he zipped along, his passive sensors alerted him to an intermittent energy signature a few meters ahead of him. He switched to visual scans and noticed a security vid mounted high on the wall before him. These vids presented something of a nuisance to him; in theory, he should have been able to access a central security network to then manipulate the data streams controlling each vid monitor. But each of these vids was modular, and had independent system access. It was tiresome.

He pinged the vid's control module and established a floating link. Since the camera's images were stored digitally, it was an easy task to compile a three second recording loop to allow him to slip by unseen. It was easy, yes. But it was irritating to have to do this separately for each vid he encountered. The Lal required him to be more efficient.

AyVee came to the grating of a ventilation shaft. Checking his records for the estate's layout, he decided that this was the shaft he needed to enter. He deployed his prime-tertiary manipular assembly (which organics short-sightedly referred to as "one of his _arms_") and configured the multi-tool at the end of it to remove each of the four screws holding the grate in place. With his sub-primary manipular assembly (which organics referred to as "one of his _other_ arms") he magnetically clamped onto the grate so that it would not fall and strike the heads of the inattentive organic units below smoking some sort of addictive contraband.

He slipped up into the shaft and replaced the grate behind him. He spent a few more seconds replacing the screws, and floated through the shafts to his objective. EM sensors located the steady pulse of a massive power signature on the other side of the shaft wall. Switching briefly to IR, he determined there were no organics or other autonomous mechanical units in the room beyond. He deployed his prime-quaternary manipular assembly, and activated a vibrosaw on the end of it. With a high pitched whine, the saw sliced away a small section of the shaft wall. It fell away and he slipped his manipular interface assembly into the gap. On the other side of the wall, there stood a computer mainframe. Hiding here, he could access it without being interrupted by organics.

He tapped into the security menu and flung some codes at the system watchdog. He slipped into the secure files with ease, and located the subsystems governing the launch bay. He stifled a happy beep as he began deactivating security systems. As he did so, he inserted a ping response that would make the computer think the systems were still active.

He almost disconnected from the system then, but remembered The Lal had assigned him another task. AyVee enjoyed being given extra responsibilities.

"Are you sure this is the way back?" Carth asked Bastila once more.

The young woman sighed irritably and glared back at him. "Carth, for the last time: Jedi practice meditation to improve our memory. With a little bit of time, I can recall anything I've ever read or seen. So do please stop nagging, hmm?"

Carth shrugged and cast a glance around the corridor they stood in. "It's just that…well it looks like we've been here before is all…"

"That has a large amount to do with the fact that these corridors have a uniform construction, I should think. Now, let's keep moving, shall we?'

Carth nodded reluctantly and followed her to a door at the end of the corridor. The door hissed open at their approach and they stepped into a wide vast chamber that reminded Carth very much of some sort of throne room. A great golden sculpture hung from the ceiling; a series of concentric rings, each of which hung lower than the one above it. Muted lighting oozed forth from each of the rings, casting a platinum glow across the room.

"So, Bastila, I've been wondering about something."

"Of course you have, Carth…"

"I don't like lying to Lal, Bastila. She's been straight with me, and I think she's entitled to the same respect from us."

"I understand your concerns, Carth. But I don't need to remind you she lacks the appropriate security clearance…given she's not even allied with the Republic!"

"Bastila, that's just _crap_, and you know it…"

"Carth! Do you think, perhaps, that this discussion could be shelved for a slightly more appropriate time?"

"Alright, Bastila. Fine."

"No time like the present, I says," called a voice over a loudspeaker. Carth and Bastila both unleashed their weapons and pressed their backs together. Doors opened on each of the walls, and Davik's muscleboys trundled in.

"Hell," Carth hissed, staring at all the blasters aimed in their direction. "I guess it doesn't need to be said that we seem to be outnumbered…"

"No," Bastila muttered back to him. "But why don't you go ahead and say it anyway?"

"Alright, alright," Davik said, emerging from a doorway behind his troops. He gripped Lal roughly by her arm, and her features were clenched in pain. Carth could see the blaster wound on her shoulder had opened up and was oozing a clear liquid. Behind her Canderous loomed in his armor. When Carth saw Lal's face, he knew the plan had gone sour; Canderous! Damned Mandalorian. Carth silently promised that Canderous would be the first to die.

"Looks like we got rats in the maze," Davik chuckled, glancing at the short squat barrel of a man to his right. "What do you think, Calo?"

The man glared at Carth and Bastila behind a pair of dark goggles and sneered. "I definitely smell a rat somewhere, Davik."

Davik smiled broadly and released Lal. He leaned over and pressed a kiss against her cheek. "Well, honey, I gotta hand it to ya: You _do_ deliver."

Carth frowned in confusion at Lal. A sick feeling suffused his belly as she simply stared impassively back at him. "Lal…"

"Sorry Carth," she said, holding her sore arm. "I have my loyalties. Davik has always been there for me."

Bastila whirled to face Lal. "Lal, what are you talking about? I thought…"

"Basi, I don't really care what you thought," Lal told her sharply, shocking the Jedi into silence. "Put your weapons down."

Bastila worked it out, surfaced from her confusion and realized Lal's betrayal. "Lal…you must know we will not surrender! This can only end in blood."

"Either way works for me, sweetheart," Davik chuckled, sliding his arm around Lal's waist. "I'd prefer to deliver you to the Sith alive, but I'm sure they won't mind if you come with a few holes in you."

"Lal," Carth called, "Don't do this!"

Bastila snarled angrily. "She's beyond our reach, Carth! She's chosen her side!"

"Carth," Lal said slowly, lowering her face, "I just wanted you to know something…you're an excellent lover…and for a brief time, I found some solace in your arms. But I'm sorry…it was all a _lie…_"

Carth opened his mouth to reply, but his brain stuttered. _What the hell was she talking about?_ She knew damned well that they had never…Then he noticed Lal's hand, her injured arm, holding her palm flat above the floor…a message?

Carth fought with his instincts, warred with his intellect. He watched Lal's eyes widen at him, as if urging him, commanding him silently…

And in the end, he did as his heart commanded.

The lights went out, and Carth threw himself over Bastila, hauling her to the floor beneath him. Shots rang out in the sudden darkness, piercing the air above their heads.

"Hold your fire, damn it!" Davik roared. "What the hell is goin' on?"

Screams rang out on all sides as Davik's thugs continued to fire in panic, shooting each other in a crossfire. Carth saw flashes of bodies falling in the flicker of blasterfire, strobing in the darkness. Bastila struggled beneath him and started to call out his name. But Carth clamped his hand over Bastila's mouth, and made himself trust Lal.

As the lights exploded and died, Lal issued a silent _thank you_ to her droid and promised to give him an oil bath. If any of them survived. Lal actually hadn't given much thought to surviving; it had ceased to be a priority when she had been told Mission had been taken by Davik. But, if all had gone according to plan, both Mission and Zaalbar would be safe aboard the Ebon Hawk. And there would be nothing between Lal and Davik Kang.

She dropped her hand behind her and Canderous slapped a blaster into her palm. It was tiny hold-out model, but would do the job. She blindly reached out beside her and chopped her hand into the hollow of Davik's throat. He staggered backwards with a gurgle, and she shoved her blaster up under his chin.

"I would have been satisfied to let you go your way, Davik," she hissed. "But you had to push me."

"Bitch," Davik hissed. "You lying, lousy piece of crap! You ain't getting' outta here alive!"

"I wasn't planning on it, Davik."

He released a frantic gasp at her words, and swallowed a dry lump in his throat. "Is…that…so?"

"Goodbye Davik."

"Wait…" he fumbled desperately. "If you k-kill me…you'll never know who you really are…!"

"I'm a killer, Davik. A devil who doesn't deserve to live. I'm what you made me."

"Nah…n-no…I didn't make you, Lal…Sure, I…I used you, b-but I didn't make you…you just don't remember…You didn't lose your m-memory in any speeder crash…you never had it!"

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Heh…there's the rub, huh? If you kill me, you'll never know…"

Her moment of hesitation was exactly what Davik sought. His hand flashed over a switch on his wrist. A flicker of blue light surrounded his body. Lal squeezed the trigger, but her shot flashed harmlessly against and energy screen clinging tightly to his body.

"No!" she cried as Davik shoved his elbow into her injured ribs. She gasped in pain and fell to the floor. She fought through the pain of the impact and immediately rolled to the side.

Davik whipped out a blaster and fired where she had fallen. "You're dead, Lal! Dead! Nobody crosses Davik Kang! Nobody!"

Lal pushed up onto all fours and spun around. She kicked her leg out in a low circle and swept Davik's legs from beneath him. He crashed onto his back and the blaster fell from his hand. The energy shield he'd activated would protect him from blasterfire, but not from kinetic energy. Lal leaped atop him and fired three lightning punches into his side.

His body clenched in pain, and she tried to pin his shoulders beneath her knees. Lal had the skill, but her lean body didn't have Davik's strength. With a roar, he hauled her over onto her back, slamming her against the floor. He levered himself atop her and dropped his elbow deep into her chest. Pain exploded in her lungs, pressing the air from her. He leaned in close to her and sneered furiously. "You're gonna die now, Lal…"

Calo Nord switched his goggles to IR half a second after the lights died. He dropped to one knee and whipped out his twin blasters to take aim at Lal Sideen. He found her whirling body flashing and blurring faster than he could follow. Damn but she was fast. Nobody was that fast. Nobody!

He tried to get her in his line of sight, but she went down in a tumble with Davik. And then a voice whispered in his ear…

"Hey, Calo…"

Nord whirled around to fire at Canderous, but the Mandalorian slapped his blasters aside and stiff-armed Calo right under his chin. Calo staggered back, his brain rattling around in his skull. He moved on instinct, switching his goggles to UV as he palmed a heat flare from his belt. He dropped it directly in front of Canderous and dashed to the side. The flare exploded in a harmless shower of intense heat; anyone using an infrared visor would have been blinded by it.

As Calo guessed, Canderous' helmet visor was tuned into IR. The Mandalorian shielded his faceplate with his hand and staggered backwards. Calo scanned about for his weapons, but couldn't find them. Cursing, he pulled a collapsed shock staff from his belt. With a flick of his wrist, the staff extended five feet and crackled with energy at the tips. He spun the staff expertly and jabbed one end into Canderous' belly. The shock hurled the Mandalorian several feet through the air.

"Good night, old dog," Calo chuckled.

A mistake. Canderous sprawled on the floor, blinded, but he flung a trio of tiny blades unerringly towards the sound of Calo's voice. Calo desperately twisted to shield his face and throat, but the blades lanced into his chest and shoulder. He snarled in pain and fell heavily to the floor. He could hear Canderous chuckling, the sound of stones tumbling down a mountainside.

He chanced a glance over his shoulder as he scrambled away from the man, and wished he hadn't. Canderous lifting his arm toward Calo, and a stream of flame roared from a nozzle on his wrist. Calo screamed as the fire washed over his body.

"Dying time's here, Calo," Canderous laughed as Calo burned.

Canderous felt a decidedly unprofessional wave of glee as he switched to Low Light inside his helmet and deployed his flame thrower. He splashed the stream of fire over Calo's crawling body and emptied the jet of flame on him. Calo writhed and twisted and burned and screeched shrilly. Canderous pulled a wickedly curved blade from the back of his belt and walked slowly towards Calo. He lifted the blade high over the burning man, but a body crashed into him.

Canderous snarled and grabbed the man by the back of his hair. He tugged his head back and drew his knife across the man's throat. He kicked the gurgling thug away and turned back to Calo. All he saw was a burning, empty coat.

Calo was gone.

Carth hauled Bastila to her feet and the two of them stumbled in the dark towards a wall. Carth pressed her forward, and felt along the wall for the doorway they had come through. "Keep your head down," he hissed as blasterfire wildly cut through the darkness. "Let these idiots kill themselves."

"Carth, if you do not release me, I will make you," Bastila hissed.

"Bastila, dammit, we've got to get to the ship!"

Bastila gathered her telekinetic will and shoved Carth against the wall. Her eyes flashed dangerously at him. "Do _not_ interfere, Captain Onasi!" She saw the sudden flicker of fear in his gaze, and shame washed through her. Her face softened, and she reached a tentative hand out to him. "Carth. Go. I will join you. I will finish this on my own."

Bastila whirled away from him and leaped into the darkness.

Lal struggled to push Davik from her, but he pressed in close and laid a kiss against her cheek.

"it's been a great ride, Lal," he chuckled. "_You've_ been a great ride…heh. I owe my success to you and your talents, Lal! I used you like a--"

She levered her leg in between his and slammed her knee into his groin. His body froze for a second and she shoved him onto his side. She twisted her body and shoved her foot into his face. She could feel his nose splatter beneath her boot. He screamed in agony and she scrambled to her feet. She whirled around looking for a weapon, and saw a vibrosword laying in the floor, splattered with blood. She dashed for it, but his hand snared about her ankle. She crashed face-first into the floor, smashing her forehead.

Stars flashed before her eyes, and she distantly felt him crawling back atop her body. She stretched her fingers out to grasp the hilt of the sword, but he hammered a fist into the back of her skull.

He rolled her over beneath him and levered his forearm under her chin, squeezing her throat shut. Lal gasped for breath as he grinned down at her. With his free hand, he drew a knife from his belt. He showed it to her, breathing heavily against her cheek, and then drove it up into her ribs.

Lal's thoughts exploded in a shower of crimson, and moist darkness clutched at her awareness.

"Now, you die…_Jedi_…" he hissed victoriously.

Jedi.

That's what he said. He called her _Jedi._ But why? What was he talking about?

Lal opened her eyes without realizing she'd closed them. His face seemed so clear and stark, even in the darkness. She'd stopped breathing. There was no more air to draw into her lungs. No more anger to fuel her fires. But there was heat. She'd imagined there would be cold as she died, not heat. But there was warmth. A strange, comforting warm that made her limbs light and airy.

It took no effort to lift her arm, to press her hand into his face. To stab her thumb into the soft orb of his eye. Distantly, she heard a man scream. Through a fuzzy haze, she saw Davik flip onto his back and writhe wildly about, clutching his face.

Lal felt hands tugging the knife from her chest. She glanced down and saw that they were her own hands, painted red. Her vision blurred into a sheen of red, and when her eyes cleared, she saw herself holding the dagger before her face. It, too was red.

She then realized that she was standing. She stumbled. Onto her knees. Wetness coursed down her belly, onto the floor. Her hand slipped from under her, and her vision blurred once more.

When she could see again, she was mounted upon Davik's chest. He squealed and churned between her thighs. His face was painted red too. Her hands commanded her. They grasped the knife together and slowly, laboriously thrust downward. The skin of his throat tore like ripe fruit. His blood sprayed her face and arms, and he gasped breathlessly. His body shuddered beneath her and went still as she felt the blade strike into the floor below him.

She glanced down at herself and collapsed to the side. Everything went black. And in the distance, she heard someone humming.

_Lal! Lal, it's time to get up! We have to go! You have to wake up! You have…to…wake…up…_


	11. Chapter 8

8: Persistent Memory

Canderous snarled contentedly as he sent of volley of fire tearing into the belly of a screeching Weequay. Canderous swung his heavy blaster around and fired another volley, walking the shots across the floor into the back of a fleeing Twi'lek. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bastila swinging her odd lightsaber, chopping down Davik's men with ease. He despised Jedi in general, but there was no denying their style. He didn't put much faith in the Force, but the Jedi certainly tapped _some_ power. And there wasn't much that could stand against a lightsaber.

Except, perhaps, the will of a Mandalorian Hunter.

Perhaps one day, he would find himself crossing swords with that girl. And then, he would see what he would see. But for now, she was an…_ally._ So Lal wished it, at least.

He suddenly realized, as he cut down another thug, that he had no idea where Lal was. Bravely, she had taken Davik himself. As it should be, of course. The woman's honor was as great as any warrior he'd ever known. But Canderous suspected she had come here to die. So be it, if that was her fate. But Canderous knew he would stand with her if it came down to it. Death would be glorious today.

Then, he saw her, laying on her back. His brow furrowed beneath his helmet and he dashed to her side. Kneeling down, he cradled her head. He could see she was in terrible shape; dying perhaps. A few feet away, Davik had been pinned to the floor by the knife in his throat. Impressive kill. Very impressive.

"Lal," he called, pulling his helmet off. "It's Canderous. You're badly injured, but you're not dead. Do you hear me, woman? You yet live. You _will_ live. But you must stand! Do you hear?" He slapped her face and her eyes snapped open. They rolled to stare at Canderous, but he could tell she did not see him. "Damn," he hissed.

"_Get away from her!" _Bastila charged forward, her features twisted in fury.

"Calm yourself, Jedi--"

In response, she swung her lightsaber at his head. Canderous sucked in a deep breath and knew he was going to die beside Lal. But Bastila had stopped her swing less than an inch from his face. The golden blade buzzed angrily in his ear and he lifted his hands defensively.

"Calm _your_self, Mandalorian. I will carry her."

"Right…" Canderous stood and moved away, wondering what was going on between these two women. Bastila turned her lightsaber off and reached down to lift Lal in her arms. "You know…she didn't actually betray you…"

"Be silent!" Bastila said, cradling Lal tightly to her. "Let's go."

As they moved towards the door, the floor rattled. Bastila frowned and glanced around "What was…"

The ceiling exploded downward, hurling a gout of fire into the room. Canderous shouted and pushed Bastila and Lal through the door. The floor behind them twisted and shredded with a scream, and burning shards of permacrete rained down into the gap.

"What's going on?" Bastila cried holding Lal tightly as they stumbled forward.

"What do you think? Shut up and move!" Canderous pushed them forward down the corridor as distant thunder shook the walls. They turned around a corner and continued running, but a wall exploded inward, hurling debris across their bodies. Canderous grabbed Bastila and Lal and shielded them with his armored body. He grunted in pain as a large chunk of permacrete slammed into his ribs.

Canderous gasped and staggered forward, but willed himself to ignore the pain. He dragged Bastila and Lal down the hall and into an open doorway. Carth stood in the doorway waving them onward.

"Come on!" Carth screamed. "The Sith must be bombarding the planet! Move! Aw, dammit…" Carth grabbed Lal's motionless body from Bastila's arms. This time the young Jedi did not argue. "The ship is prepped for launch," he told them, and headed at a brisk run across a broad empty stretch of floor. Before him, the Ebon Hawk loomed like a giant avian hunter, perched with wings stretched forward, ready to leap into the sky. Its powerful muscular form stood strong against the cascade of girders and debris from above. Carth led them to the open access ramp, set to the left of the jutting bridge module. They were met at the top of the ramp by Zaalbar and Mission, with AyVee beeping nervously overhead.

"Sickbay!" Carth yelled at Zaalbar, handing Lal to the Wookiee. Zaalbar moaned in agreement and dashed off to the center of the ship. Carth and Canderous and Bastila rushed through the twisting corridors of the ship to the bridge. Carth jumped into the pilot's chair, huddled before the wide view shield of the bridge. He reached up to flick a series of switches and the ship rumbled. Bastila slid into the co-pilot's seat across a bank of equipment and control from Carth. She pulled a headset on and strapped herself in.

Behind them, Canderous held on tightly to the back of Carth's chair. "And a fond farewell bid to the shining shores of Taris," Canderous murmured.

Carth kissed two of his fingers and gripped the control waldoes. He tugged back slowly on them, and the deck tilted as the Hawk leaped from the floor of the launch bay. Maneuvering on repulsorlifts, Carth spun the ship around in a loose circle, aiming the blunted nose towards the main launch doors.

Bastila glanced furiously around her control panel. "Bay door controls! Where are they?"

"No time," Canderous grunted. He reached over her shoulder to flick up a red safety switch. Beneath it rested a red button. On her display, she saw an icon shaped like a missile turn red and grow to fill the screen. Canderous pressed the button with his thumb and a streak of white fire screamed out from the port wing of the ship. The concussion missile sank into the surface of the bay door and crumpled it with a flash of light. A shock wave sent tremors rumbling through the body of the Ebon Hawk and the door blew outward in a spray of torn durasteel.

"Good to go," Carth muttered, goosing the thrusters. The Hawk lurched forward, peeling through the opening. Another orbital blast jarred the entire estate and the top edge of the doorway bent downwards, scraping the dorsal armor. The glancing impact jarred everyone inside the ship, but Carth shoved the Hawk out into the sky.

Once free of the bay, they could see the entire cityscape burning as great streaks of red lightning stabbed down into the clustered towers and Arcologies. Zooming by high above them, wings of swollen-bellied Sith bombers dropped their whistling payloads into the streets of Taris. The detonations bloomed in vast circles or orange fire and molten air.

"Sons of Mandalore," Canderous whispered under his breath reverently. "It's glorious…"

Carth glanced back at Canderous incredulously and shook his head. "Maniac. We're out of here." He leaned over to speak into the commlink, "AyVee, jack in to the main computer and start broadcasting that code sequence! Let's hope this works," he muttered to Bastila and Canderous. "Otherwise, this is gonna be a short ride…"

Carth yanked back hard on the control waldoes and jammed the thrusters wide open. The Ebon Hawk sliced upwards through the wispy clouds and ripped through the thin atmosphere. The sky around it faded from icy blue to coal black. As the ship left Taris hurtling away beneath it, Carth cut in the ion drives. The exhaust vents at the rear of the Hawk flared with blue flame and the ship stood upwards, pressing several Gs. Bastila activated the Inertial Dampeners, before the Gs could squeeze the crew into paste.

"There," Canderous grunted, pointing through the view shield. Flickering silver against the black curtain of the void was the wickedly curved blade of the Leviathan. The Sith flagship rained down sheets of crimson fire upon the planet from its hundreds of turbolaser batteries. Where those blasts sliced across the belly of the planet, the blue surface burned orange.

"Malak is on that ship," Bastila murmured softly, hugging herself tightly.

"Just relax, Bastila," Carth said. He glanced at a warning light on his control panel. "Uh-oh. Picking up a massive energy signature…We're being scanned. I'm activating shields…"

"Do that and those codes will be a waste," Canderous warned. "The Eradicators have probably locked onto us. If you activate those shields, they'll ignore the code transmission, and start shooting."

"Dammit," Carth growled, "and they'll just punch through the shields any-damn-way."

Canderous nodded. "You got it, 'Public."

"Alright. No choice. But it won't be long before those Sith ships pick us up on their screens. This had _better_ be the fastest ship in the sector…"

Canderous grinned. "Scared, 'Public?"

"You're damn right I'm scared, Mandalorian."

"Good. Fear makes a man smart."

"Force preserve us," Bastila gasped, pointing. "It's massive…"

The first Eradicator platform loomed into view, hanging like a spindle at a tilt. The top of the massive automated station was shielded with a gleaming silver half dome. The body extended beneath the dome like a slender sword blade. Bristling from the lower end was a cluster of cannons, swiveling to keep a lock on the Hawk.

Another one appeared off the starboard bow, some ten thousand kilometers distant. And then another, further away. More of them flickered in the distance like diamonds trapped in orbit.

"There are so many," Bastila gasped. A warning light caught her eye and she tapped a control. A display popped up on her control screen. "Oh no. We've got company. I think it's a…a Hyperion-Class destroyer…"

"Fast attack picket vessel," Carth noted. "Short range turbolaser batteries…squadron of snubfighters, if I recall correctly…"

"Can we outrun it?" Bastila asked.

"Yeah. But those fighters can swarm all over us. Bastila, get those hyperspace coordinates punched into the computer. Canderous, get on the dorsal quad."

Canderous gave a nod and dashed to the center of the ship. The access ladder to the dorsal cannon was directly across from the modest little sickbay, and Canderous caught a glimpse of Lal's body stretched out on a biobed, her breasts painted red. Zaalbar huddled over her, his furred arms slathered in Lal's blood. Mission sat in a ball on the deck, weeping.

"Is she…dead?" Canderous asked. But as Zaalbar turned to snarl at him, Canderous could see Lal's lips moving. But her skin was ashen. Canderous cursed to himself and hauled his body up the ladder to the cannon control bubble.

_She sat in a class full of children; they were all clad in brown tunics and sat quietly while a tall man in black robes stood at the front with a pointer. A holographic display of the Galaxy glowed before him; the display sparkled with a bright cluster of holographic stars around the equator. The man, a teacher, pointed to various stars and the children called out the names of the stars in turn._

_The teacher nodded and then pointed to another star. No one knew the answer. She glanced around at the rest of the children, waiting for someone to speak. But no one did. Finally, she called out the name, Ison._

_The teacher nodded, and she smiled despite the rules._

"They're getting really rather close, Carth," Bastila said in a tiny voice. Her eyes were locked on the tactical screen, displaying four Sith snub fighters swooping towards them.

"We're still not outta the woods, Bastila," Carth growled back. "Just focus on those coordinates."

The Ebon Hawk zoomed past another Eradicator, and Carth breathed a sigh of relief. But he kept his eye on his own tac-scanner, marking the relative position of the Hyperion destroyer and the wing of fighters. The fighters would easily close to attack range in less than two minutes.

Bastila unstrapped herself and moved to the navcomputer mounted behind the pilot's station. She accessed the ship's navigational records and called up the numbers for Dantooine, where the Jedi Council was located. She had to enter the ship's current course and relative coordinates, and then the relative coordinates of Dantooine. Although general coordinates were relatively small numbers, hyperspace travel forced a requirement for immense specificity. The human mind was generally incapable of calculating more than three or four dimensional coordinates, especially when those numbers changed slightly depending on the oscillation of hyperspace fabric…

Bastila hated calculating hyperspace routes. She'd never been good at it, even in the academy.

"We're almost clear!" Carth told her.

"That's good," Canderous responded over the comm, "because here they come!"

The four Sith fighters unfolded their weapon foils, snapping them out into attack position. They broke off into pairs and swarmed over the Hawk. The first pair went high and the second went low. The dorsal Quad cannon opened up, churning forth powerful blasts of concerted energy. The lead fighter rolled over the blasts, but his wingman swam directly into their path and crumpled in a globe of fire.

The lead fighter triggered his cannons, strafing the spine of the Hawk. Tiny explosions gusted forth where the blasts struck the surface. Carth flipped the Ebon Hawk into a barrel roll and opened the ion throttle wide. Canderous snapped off another brace of shots, clipping one of the fighter that had tried to go for the Hawk's belly. It spun away from the Hawk in a wild spiral, crackling with energy leaking from a breached drive core.

"Two of the bastards down," Canderous growled.

_She watched as the little boy grinned wickedly and clutched the stolen holocube to his chest. Behind him a little girl cried. "You're not supposed to have these anyway!" the boy accused gleefully._

_But the little girl continued to cry. Her mother had sent the holocube; on it was a recording of a birthday party her parents had thrown for her, even though the little girl was absent._

_"Give it back to her," She said resolutely, balling her tiny fists before the little boy._

_"No!" the boy shouted back. "Why don't you…"_

_She hauled back with her little fist and knocked the boy senseless. He started to cry. She plucked the holocube from his grubby fingers and stomped over to the little girl. "Here. Hide it."_

_"Lal!" one of the teachers cried out in alarm. "Come here this instant!"_

Canderous pulverized another one of the fighters leaving only a single one buzzing over the Ebon Hawk in wide circles. Carth was finally able to bring the shields on-line as they cleared the forest of Eradicator stations. The snubfighter's laser cannons just drew bright sparks where they crashed harmlessly against the Hawk's defense screens.

But a new problem emerged twenty thousand kilometers to port. "Sith interdictor moving into this quadrant!" Carth announced. "If he gets a lock with those gravity well projectors, we're as good as dead!"

"Then don't let him," Canderous spat back over the comm.

"Thanks for the advice," Carth hissed back. He then saw two full squadrons of snubfighters sailing towards the Hawk from the bays of the interdictor. "Great. Who invited these guys? Everybody hold on, it's gonna get a little rough…"

The Ebon Hawk's engines pulsed with might and hurled the ship forward at a blistering velocity. Carth angled the deflector screens to front and blew through the formation of snubfighters. The tiny fighters broke ranks as the Hawk ripped past them. Canderous chopped down two of them as they whipped by.

The interdictor cruiser fired a shot from her turbolaser batteries, and the beam lanced across the underbelly of the Hawk. "Relax, no damage," Carth called out. "They just want us to stop by for a cup of tea…"

"Almost got it, Carth," Bastila told him, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

_"That was behavior unbecoming a Jedi, young Padawan," the teacher told her. Her tiny legs swung as she sat in the huge chair. She poked her lower lip out defiantly and shrugged._

_"Those boys were wrong. They shouldn't say things like that when they're not true,"_

_"Perhaps. But it is not your place to punish them for it. The Jedi does not seek vengeance. Only justice."_

_"I di'nt hurt anyone," she protested._

_"But you could have, young one. You abused your training. And for that, you must be punished."_

"There!" Bastila cried, leaping back into the co-pilot's chair. "That's it! Punch it!"

Carth reached forward to grab the hyperjump throttle and yanked it back. His stomach seemed to drop about five feet and the stars outside the view shield warped into a thousand streaking lines of white fire. Hyperspace ripped open and they dove in, leaving normal space light years behind them. The starfield collapsed into a boiling tunnel of blue light, and Carth sat back from the controls. He ran a hand through his hair and turned a worried glance to Bastila.

She did her level best to ignore him, adjusting control settings on her panel.

Carth sighed and shook his head in disbelief. "You're not even gonna talk about it are you?"

"A Jedi does not give in to emotion, Carth. The mission is completed and there's nothing left to discuss."

"Bastila…"

"I said I do not wish to speak of this!" Bastila told him curtly.

"Fine," Carth growled. He pushed up from his seat and stormed off the bridge. He passed Lal's droid in the main computer room, where it was happily chirping and beeping a conversation with the computer. He made his way to the ship's sickbay and saw Canderous and Mission standing in the corridor. Zaalbar was inside, still tending to Lal's wounds.

"How is she?" Carth asked.

Mission wiped the tears from her eyes and cheeks and glanced up at Carth in agony. "Zaalbar saws her lung got pierced, and collapsed…it's all my fault…"

"I think she's stabilized," Canderous said, staring at Mission in disgust. "She's tougher than she looks."

Carth nodded and laid a comforting hand on Mission's shoulder. Mission clamped her hands over her eyes and began crying into Carth's chest. "It's all my fault," she moaned. "All I've been is weak and stupid and soft…"

"Oh, enough!" Canderous snapped, making Mission jump with fright. "I've had more than enough of your pathetic mewling! You _are_ weak! And stupid and soft! You've proven yourself a liability little girl. If it weren't for you, Lal would likely be fine."

Carth put Mission behind him and strode up to stare Canderous in the eye. "You've got a lot of nerve talking to a girl like that, Canderous."

"I call it like I see--"

Carth hammered his fist into Canderous' jaw, stunning the big Mandalorian and dropping him to the deck. He lifted his hands before him in a fighting stance, waiting for Canderous to get back up.

Canderous just looked up at him and started laughing. "I bet that felt good, eh, 'Public? Heh. You people just don't get it, do you?"

"What are you talking about, Canderous?" Carth demanded.

As he picked himself up, Canderous snorted. "Heh. You're weak, little girl. That is a truth. But the thing is; you have a choice. You can remain weak, remain a liability…or you can become strong. You can keep crying and weeping and moaning. Telling yourself you are less than nothing. That's an easy thing to do. Or you can strive to be something better than you are. That, little girl, that is hard." He picked himself up and shook his head. "Now…that woman in there…she may well be dying. And yes, it's due in large part to you. You can choose to simply bleat and moan, or you can choose to honor what she has sacrificed for you. Anything less is a waste of time. Are you always going to let others fight your battles for you? Like this stripling of a Republic dog?"

"Canderous, if you like," Carth promised, "I can always put you on your ass again…"

"Well, you could try," Canderous grinned, beckoning him forward.

Carth curled his lip scornfully and waved his hand. "You're not worth it, Mandalorian."

"Heh, well, certainly not, if you can't afford it," Canderous chuckled.

"You just be careful what you say to Mission."

"Ah. That's right. Keep rushing to her rescue, 'Public. Keep her weak. Keep her reliant upon your help. Or Lal's help. Tell me, _Carth,_ is that simply how you're wired? Or does the Republic program you to be that way?"

"Could you two st-stop fighting for one d-damned minute?" a weak voice coughed hoarsely.

"Lal!" Mission cried.

Lal stood in the doorway of sickbay and leaned heavily against Zaalbar. She clutched a blanket around her chest, and her bare skin was smeared dark red with blood. Bruises darkened her face and her lips were swollen and split. Her right eye sported a purple shiner, and she let her hair fall before her cheek. She nodded at Mission and tried her best to smile. "Eh…look; we've got matching scars…"

Mission reflexively touched the scars on her own face, patched up and bandaged. She smiled despite herself. "I'm sorry Lal…what I did was stupid…and it won't happen ever again…I won't let you down again…"

"Forget abut it, Mission. I'm alive. You're alive. We're all alive. And, since we're all here, I'm going to hazard a guess that we got away. I need a shower…tell me there's a bloody fresher on this can…"

Zaalbar howled warningly at her and shook his shaggy head.

"Hell," Lal groaned, rolling her eyes. "The Carpet slapped an auto-respirator on me…keeping my lung inflated. He doesn't want a sonic shower disrupting the seal…"

"Lal," Carth said with a frown, "we're gonna have to have a little chat. But right now you should be in bed."

"Oh, we're going to chat, Carth. All of us. But first, I want you to take the ship to Tatooine. We'll be safe there."

"No," Carth shook his head. He folded his arms over his chest and went on. "We need to go to Dantooine. We're already on route. It would take us…weeks to divert to Tatooine."

Lal stared at him for a moment. His gaze was implacable and unrelenting. She chuckled sourly. "You know, you're quite adorable when you're being stubborn." She pushed off from Zaalbar and slowly, stiffly walked down the corridor to the central rec area. She glanced around with a scowl and leaned against a table. "Where in…where is the bloody fresher? I have to pay a visit on the gents, as they say…"

Mission stepped forward and eased past Lal to guide her to one of two tiny freshers sitting just off of the main rec-room. Lal leaned heavily on Mission's shoulder and the Twi'lek slipped her arm around Lal's waist to help her move. Lal maneuvered into the fresher and glanced disparagingly at the thin partition that served as a door.

"Hold on a bit, Mission…I hate to…say this…but I may need your help getting up…" Lal slid the partition shut.

"Sure, Lal. Listen, I meant what I said, y'know…I'm just so glad you're okay, Lal…"

"Mission, I said don't worry about it, and I meant it. So don't."

"I…um…okay…I guess you're angry…I mean, you totally should be…! I was stupid…it was unforgivable…But I wouldn't…I mean…I…I love you, Lal…I'm so sorry you got hurt because of me…"

Lal finished up in the fresher and slid the partition back. "Mission, don't be silly. How could you…_love_ me? We haven't known each other for more than…a few months…been friends less than a week. Don't be absurd."

Mission stared at her for a second, and the pain twisted her smooth brow. She lowered her eyes and Lal saw a tear building at the corner of Mission's unswollen eye. "But I…nobody's ever protected me before…not like you did…not even my brother…I…"

"Mission," Lal sighed, laying her hands on the young woman's shoulders, "I…I like you. I really do. And I'm glad you're safe…and all that…but you act as if we're…we're sisters or something."

"I know w-we're not sisters, Lal…of c-course…I mean…sure…B-but I just thought that…"

"Well you thought wrong, Mission. You're a big girl. You…maybe it's time you grew up."

A tear streamed down Mission's bruised cheek and Mission nodded. "Okay, Lal…" she tried to suppress a sob and turned away. "If that's how you…"

"Yes, Mission. That's how I feel."

Mission covered her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut. She nodded abruptly and dashed away. The Twi'lek stopped at the far end of the rec area and turned back. "I…I guess I really screwed up, didn't I? You totally hate me…I deserve it, I guess. M-maybe Canderous is right…I'm just…I'm sorry I hurt you, Lal!" Then Mission whirled and ran down a corridor.

Lal leaned against the bulkhead behind her and closed her eyes tightly. _I'm sorry I hurt you, Mission. It had to be done, though…_Lal sighed heavily, clutching the sheet in a white-knuckled fist. If Mission was to survive, she was going to have to toughen up. Love wouldn't help her stay alive. It would only make her softer.

Besides, Lal needed to be able to focus. She couldn't do that while worrying herself sick about a Twi'lek, who, by all rights, should have been able to take care of herself.

Lal turned and glanced down a corridor to her right. Thinking she'd heard something, she headed up the corridor. It slithered up the spine of the ship and led to the humming bridge. Lal peered in and saw Bastila sitting in the co-pilot chair.

"Lal," Bastila said in a cool greeting, turning her head slightly.

"Bastila," Lal growled in reply. "There are some things you need to tell me."

"Is that so?" Bastila sighed, pretending to attend to her controls. "Don't you think you should be resting instead of bothering me?"

"Oh, I can see you're quite busy."

"Alright," Bastila relented. "What is it you wish to talk about?"

Lal staggered forward, her chest aching. She leaned against the navcomputer and glared at Bastila with fiery, hooded eyes. "You know who I am."

"Of course. You're Lal Sideen. Mercenary cutthroat and assassin."

"No. You know who I really am. I didn't know what it was the first time I talked to you…but now, I'm sure of it. You know who I was…before…"

"I don't know what you're going on about."

"Did the Jedi teach you to lie? Didn't do a good job of it. Don't treat me as if I'm a fool. I'm far from it. Here's what I know: you and Carth came to Taris on a secret mission. Something of great importance to your little war. Carth was very clever, but I've dealt with all sorts of men who've had secrets. I know how to read them. You were desperate to keep your mission a secret. Not only from me, but from the Sith."

"Hmm. Perhaps I was concerned you'd attempt to sell us out to your master, Kang. Oh wait…I was right, wasn't I?"

"Oh, come off it, Bastila! You're a bloody grown-up. If you cannot see that what I did was the only way to protect Mission and to save all our lives, then you're denser than you appear to be!"

"Alright. Granted. And…thank you…But your mistake was in not trusting Carth or myself with your plan."

"No. That doesn't fly with me, Bastila. You know better. How could I trust you if you didn't trust me? And you didn't. You still don't. You're upset because I used you? I'm fine with it. I used you to save someone I care about. And we all got what we wanted in the process; a way off the bloody planet. I used you, yes. But you used me as well."

Bastila shot to her feet and whirled to face Lal. "I _used_ you? Exactly how do you figure that?"

"You used me to find a way off the planet. Plain and simple. That's fine. But you cannot go crying about getting the tail when you've been playing someone for an ass."

"I…excuse me?"

"What?"

"'Getting the tail'? What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"Er…damn it Basi! You know what I mean!"

Bastila's face turned pale, and she turned swiftly away from Lal.

"Now what?" Lal cried.

"That name…" Bastila murmured softly. "You called me 'Basi'…"

"Did I?"

Bastila sighed heavily and stepped out from her station. Concern melted the ice of her features. She walked over and tentatively extended a hand to Lal's face. Gingerly, she cupped Lal's cheek. "Lal…look at you…you're all bashed up…"

Lal frowned in confusion, and her back stiffened. "You suddenly care?"

"Of course I care…I wasn't going to leave without you, Lal."

"You…it was you carrying me…I thought it was Carth…"

"Carth took over. I would have collapsed, I was so tired." Bastila folded her arms across her breasts and sighed. "Alright, Lal. You…I suppose you deserve the truth. I didn't…tell you because…well, I was sworn to secrecy by my oath as a Jedi Knight. And to be fully honest…it's the Council's place…"

"Bastila, please! If you know who I am, you _have _to tell me!"

"Alright. I was sent to Taris to rescue an ally of both the Republic and the Jedi Order. A Jedi Knight. This Jedi…had fought in the Mandalorian Wars…_her_ contributions were…without measure. Though the Council never sanctioned the war, she was a hero. Her efforts…her strategies helped to save the Republic from the Mandalorian menace. And, before she left the order to fight the war, she was also a great…a legendary Jedi. She was truly gifted, Lal."

Lal stared at Bastila for a long moment. A strange vibration hummed in the pit of her belly. She tried to speak, but her voice cracked and dissolved into silence. She cleared her throat and tried again." I…I see…And how did she come to be…to find herself on Taris?"

"We weren't entirely sure. After the war, she retired--"

"'Retired'?" Lal cried. "What do you mean, _retired_? How old was she?"

A smile drifted across Bastila's face. "Older than she looks. But still the most beautiful woman I've ever known."

Lal pulled back from Bastila's touch and glanced away. "So she…_retired_…"

"Yes," Bastila said, lowering her hand. "She wanted to live a quiet life after the hell of the war. She had purchased a modest cottage in the countryside on Dantooine. She had a garden. A lovely garden, too. But…we don't know the specifics, mind you…she was attacked. A surprise attack. Somehow, she was taken unaware, and was kidnapped. The man who kidnapped her sought to use her talents to aid him in his despicable line of work. Somehow, he managed to wipe out her memory of everything she knew or was or did, and he turned her into…into a _weapon…_"

"Bastila…oh, Bastila, there must be some sort of mistake. You see, I'm not a…a Jedi. I couldn't be. I'm just a normal woman."

"Normal, is it?" Bastila chuckled. "Far from it. This coming from a woman who is standing and walking and talking half a day after receiving a wound that would have slain a Wookiee. Think about the things you've done, Lal. You killed a Rancor. Single-handedly. Think about your skills in battle. Lal, you're a small woman! You can't weigh much more than fifty…fifty-five kilos. And yet, how many men have you fought and…and _killed_, who were twice your size? Twice as strong as you? A Jedi cannot be judged by size or physical might. The Force is the most powerful of allies, Lal. How many have you…seduced to your will, Lal? Hmm? With the Force, a Jedi can turn a whisper into a command."

"I…no. I don't believe it. I don't…I can't believe it."

"Davik took you from us! He wiped your mind and perverted your skills, turned you into a criminal…a killer! It is…it's the worst form of _rape_, Lal."

"No."

"After I spoke with you the first time, I knew it was you! You had changed; your hair was longer…your fashion sense had become a bit more…risqué, but I knew it was you."

"There's something more,' Lal said, "something you're still not telling me…"

Bastila smiled. "Your feelings serve you well, Lal. More proof."

"Tell me, Bastila! Who am I to you?"

Bastila lowered her gaze. "I…shouldn't be telling you…_any_ of this, Lal…we…we grew up together. You were a few years older than me. We were close. And we always argued…"

Lal laughed despite herself. It slipped out unbidden. "Of course we did. That hasn't changed, at least…"

"No. It hasn't. You are very dear to me, Lal. And that's probably why…why I've been so hard on you. What Davik did to you…it hurt me as well as you."

Lal glanced away from Bastila and shook her head. "I don't…I don't think I can deal with this…Is my real name…Lal Sideen? Or is that completely different, too?"

"Your name is…Lal. Yes." Bastila stepped forward to touch Lal's arm. Her brown eyes flicked down at Lal's bruises and scrapes and scars. "Do you recall…anything?"

Lal shook her head. "No. No…yes…maybe…I think I dreamed…when I was out."

"I thought you might have. I believe I felt it."

"Felt it? Oh wait. Of course, you're a mind reader."

"Only when necessary. Technically, you are as well. The intuitions you have about people…they usually are spot on, are they not? You read people so well it's almost as if you're…reading their thoughts? Your mind may have forgotten what you are, but your body has not. It remembers, Lal. And…you can remember as well…"

"No."

"In fact, you _must!"_ Bastila whispered fiercely. Her eyes flickered back and forth as thoughts warred in her mind. "I'm likely overstepping my bounds with the Council…But, Lal…you are needed. The Republic needs you."

"Me? I don't understand."

"In the Mandalorian Wars, you fought alongside Malak. And…Revan. Before they turned to the Dark Side. You knew their strategies better than anyone. If there's anyone who can help win this war, Lal, it is you. The Council knows this; they will wish to speak with you. But Darth Malak…he knew…knows it…as well. Before Revan died, he and Malak began to systematically murder all the Jedi who served with them during the war. They knew too much, you see. Of them all, only you survived. You remained…hidden on Dantooine. When you were taken from us, the Council initially feared Malak had killed you. But Malak…he didn't know you had survived. If he had known, and caught you while you had no memory of yourself, his victory would have been complete. And so the mission had to remain secret."

"But…if what you're telling me is true, I'd pose no threat to the Sith. I have no bloody memories!"

"Oh, Lal…Malak couldn't possibly know this. And even if he did, he couldn't afford to accept it at face value. You're too dangerous to him. No. He would have tortured you and then killed you."

"Basi…Bastila…this is too much for me. An hour ago…I was…all I wanted was to…to make a place for myself, doing what I know best to do. Now, you lay this madness in my lap. Bastila…I'm not the person you think I am. Even if I _am_…I'm not anymore…"

She turned away from Bastila and left the bridge, walking stiffly, leaning against the bulkheads for support.

"Lal!" Bastila called.

"No…I need to rest, Bastila. I'm sorry. I…I can't help you."


	12. Chapter 9

9: Walking in Shadow

Space was a vast void. Composed of endless parsecs of black nothing, bubbling with a distant radio hiss, it gathered stars and worlds in tiny luminous clusters connected by the taut strings of gravity. Before the discovery of hyperspace more than twenty-five thousand years ago, there was no Republic; there were no space lanes or trade routes. There was only the daunting emptiness. In those days, physical and thermodynamic law intruded on the desire to conquer the galaxy. Journeys to nearby stars took hundreds of centuries; devoured the reaction mass of primitive fuels too greedily to be practical.

Hyperspace changed that. Centuries became years and years became months. Twenty-five thousand years later, hyperspace was still scarcely understood. Theories held that it was some sort of parallel dimension in which the laws of nature did not fully apply. Time and distance were not the same there. Mass and inertia became flights of fancy. It was believed that hyperspace constantly shifted in ways that could not be reliably predicted. And so, as ships traveled within it, distances were always approximations. The first hyperspace scouts and explorers mapped out the most efficient routes through it, connecting known stars and populous systems. This maximized the benefit of hyperspace, but still didn't completely eliminate its uncertainty. And for every system and star linked through this cosmic roadway, there were a thousand more, untouched; ignored on the very edge of explored space. Without efficient routes mapped and pinpointed, journeys between such distant systems were fraught with many delays and hazards.

So it was that the journey from Taris to Dantooine took nearly a week to complete. During that time, the Ebon Hawk seemed to grow smaller and smaller to her new crew. Carth quickly assumed command, and was uncontested in this, due to his experience as a pilot. And no one seemed to care much, anyway. He and Canderous adapted to the boredom the easiest; both men were long accustomed to extended trips in space. Carth and Canderous tended to scrape against one another; they had been enemies in the Mandalorian wars. But they had, perhaps, the most in common of anyone on the ship. Canderous and Carth initially agreed to inventory the stores on the ship, checking for supplies and gear. After they found the cache of weapons stowed in the cargo bay, Canderous spent most of the flight breaking down and cleaning those weapons and reassembling them. Carth turned his attention to system maintenance and managed to completely overhaul the Ebon Hawk's Deflector systems.

Bastila accepted the journey with a placid serenity, resolving to spend her days in meditation and reflection. But Lal's response to her revelations had not sat well with the young woman, and her thoughts were plagued with anxieties and fears about the Council's possible responses to her indiscretions.

Mission managed to get in Carth's way while he worked on the deflectors, begging to assist him. When he'd refused her with strained politeness, she turned to Zaalbar. Zaalbar hated the confined spaces of the Hawk and moaned constantly about the unchained green of his homeworld. When Mission first began following him around and pestering him to show her how to fight, Zaalbar had responded by smashing Canderous' bunk into sculpture. After a few days, he'd simmered down, and realized that, strange as it seemed, Mission's incessant chattering had a calming effect on him. She reminded him of another time, on his home, when he had taken joy in training the children of his village in the combat and hunting skills all Wookiees had to master to survive. Though Mission was not terribly suited for Wookiee combat techniques, he determined to develop her sense of tactics through playing Pazaak. Of course, being something of a cardie, Zaalbar had ulterior motives. And while they played cards, Mission was uncharacteristically quiet.

Lal did her level best to avoid the company of the others as her wounds healed. This proved difficult, given the closeness of the quarters. But Lal managed it by throwing forth a cold glare whenever she was thrust into the presence of someone else. She didn't want to talk to Bastila again, and she didn't want to entertain speculation about the quickness of her recovery. Halfway through the week, Lal noticed that the wound in her middle had all but closed beneath the bandages, and she managed to breathe without coughing up blood. Before long, Lal found she was able to engage in the calisthenics routines she often practiced to remain limber and build her stamina. During these routines, she allowed AyVee to hover close-by; his whistles and beeps and digitized nonsense squeezed the troubled thoughts of her background from her mind.

As the ship neared its destination, Lal found herself on the bridge, staring out at the bright blue whirl of hyperspace. Carth walked in, gave her a silent nod and took his seat at the pilot station. Lal moved to leave, but decided against it. She sat down in the co-pilot's chair across from Carth and gazed silently out of the armored canopy.

"I suppose," she said suddenly, "that once we land, you'll be going your own way."

He glanced over at her briefly and shrugged. "I suppose. I'll probably head back to Republic HQ to return to normal duty. And I suppose you'll be heading to Tatooine to handle your…business affairs."

"Carth," she asked, "did you know?"

"I…I didn't know anything until Bastila told me." He remained silent for a bit as he checked his status boards and read-outs. Glancing back over at Lal, he continued, "I didn't exactly know if I believed it. Still don't know. I was…I was in the War to the very end. I never met…er…_you…_Of course, there were around a hundred Knights or so who broke off and followed Revan into battle."

A frown wrinkled Lal's brow. "I don't…understand…I thought…"

"That Revan and Malak were born evil? Nah. They were Jedi, once. Heroes. Heh. _Heroes…_"

"I…no. What I was trying…what I mean to say was…you said they 'broke off'…what did you mean by that?"

Carth sighed and ground his jaw. She could almost see the anger building up in the tautness of his muscles; the tensing of the flesh along his temple. "The Republic was…all about the war with the Mandalorians. They…they didn't want an open conflict, mind you, but when open war broke out, they didn't hesitate. The Mandalorians would have burned a path all the way to Coruscant. The Republic had no choice but to take them on. But the Jedi…they thought differently. Nobody really knows why. Except for the Jedi, I reckon. Revan felt differently. Revan went head to head against the Council on it; they wouldn't get involved, so Revan decided to go it alone. Revan was always a maverick, from what I've been told. But Revan had friends who felt the same way about the war and the Mandalorians. All of them defied the Council to help us…to lead us…in the war. Without Revan, without Malak and the others, the Mandalorians would have torn us apart. Revan didn't just fight the Mandies. They broke them apart. Mentally, physically…morally. I remember…the final assault…we were flying over-watch for a ground assault…tearing nap-of-terrain through the dense jungles…my squadron was tasked with taking out missile stations and artillery batteries…ground armor, that sort of thing…The Mandalorians had fielded a platoon of Basilisk Hyper-Mobies. Nasty things…"

"Hyper-whats?"

Carth had drifted into mil-speak jargon without noticing it. He visibly fumbled for the words she'd understand. "Uh…Hyper Mobile Enhancement Stations. Mobies. Heavy assault droids with a pilot station mounted on top. A Mandie pilot could either control the thing or let it run semi-independent. Heavily armed and armored. They were used in sub-orbital insertions…in space, they could maneuver almost as well as a starfighter. In atmosphere, their air mobility was limited, but try to imagine a…a tank that could both hover and walk, and there's a Basilisk…rough bastards, too. A five meter tall, fifteen ton monster.

"Well," he continued, shrugging his shoulders, "Revan lead a squad of Jedi against this platoon of Basilisks. Damnedest thing I've ever seen…well…aside from you killing that Rancor…Those Jedi tore through those Basilisks like they were made of wet tissue. They cleared a path for the ground troops to take the Mandalorian headquarters. Meanwhile, Revan had put Eradicators in planetary orbit to keep the Mandie leaders from escaping. Any of them who resisted…we slaughtered them. They gave as good as they got, sure. But by that time, it was a lost cause for them. Revan…and Malak…they turned the tide. We carved a ten kilometer wide trench right through the jungle, Lal. To this day, nothing grows in it. We laid our mark on their world. Revan singlehandedly fought and killed their generals, in front of all of our troops. Showed them all who had the big stick. That was what broke their spirit for fighting. Revan knew that, unless the Mandalorian spirit was broken, they'd always be a threat."

"Sounds like you said…a slaughter…"

"It was and it wasn't. The Mandalorians made a special alloy called Mandalorian Steel. Very rare. But it was able to resist the power of a lightsaber. Made the fights almost even odds. But I've never met anyone who could face down a Jedi in a fair fight. Like I said, Revan fought all the generals alone. Everyone just stood by and watched. Hundreds of thousands of troops, both Mandalorian and Republic. If Revan hadn't done that…the Mandalorians would have fought to the death. It would have been genocide. We would have still won, but a lot more Republic soldiers would be dead. It was a civilized choice, but some say it was the most ruthless choice of all. Because, like I said, we did more than just beat the Mandalorians; we broke their souls. Crushed their spirit and scattered their race to the solar winds. We…we destroyed an entire race without killing them. Revan did that."

"And…Revan…and me…we did this…and the Jedi never took us back…?"

"Well…the Jedi are all about redemption, Lal. Those who truly sought redemption were embraced. But, the Republic was out of it by then. Revan and Malak…they refused the Redemption the Jedi Council offered. They didn't feel they'd done anything wrong."

"Did you?"

"Did I what, Lal?"

"Did you feel they were wrong?"

Carth lowered his chin and scowled in thought. "No. Maybe…aw, hell…I don't know. Lal, I hate to say this, but if you're looking for philosophical depth from me, you ain't gonna find it…I'm just a flyboy stick-jockey who knows a little bit about soldiering. That sort of debate…I'm not qualified for it. And damn, it seems like every time I open my mouth about right and wrong, somebody's there to smack me back down."

She glanced away, knowing that she'd been the one to smack him down at least once or twice.

Carth sighed and flipped a switch. He leaned forward to check a series of scrolling numbers on a tiny display and unlocked the safety armature for the hyperspace throttle. "Coming up on Dantooine. We're gonna be jumping out of the pipe soon." He turned to stare at Lal's face, then. "Why did you…uh…why did you…"

"Come to chat?"

"Hmm…yeah. Trying to jog your memories?"

She shook her head. "I can't remember a thing, Carth. Only a few strange dreams…Actually, I just wanted to talk to you…about what I, um…did at Davik's place…"

"Yeah. I was a little sore about that, Lal."

"I wanted to say I'm sorry…"

"Forget it, Lal. I know what you did and why you did it."

"Oh. You…you're pretty upset…?"

He glanced away from her and chuckled sourly. "Not really. I did some thinking about it; I reckon you did what you did to keep us from getting killed. And even if you didn't, Lal, _that's_ what I'm gonna believe. Understand?"

She closed her eyes and nodded. "Yes. I understand, Carth…"

"That way, Lal, we can make a break of it…cleanly…and go our separate ways."

She shifted towards him in her chair and offered a hopeful smile. But he didn't look at her. "Do we have to…to go our separate ways, Carth? I mean…You and I…we've been through a lot, and I was…well…"

"Lal…"

"No, wait, let me finish. I…the two of us…we…dammit, this isn't usually so bloody difficult for me…"

"Lal, listen…I don't know what in the hell is the deal with this…this Jedi thing. Bastila sorta pulled the carpet out from under me with that one. But in any event, my mission is over. Command's gonna reassign me. And the Jedi have plans for you."

"What if my plans don't involve the Jedi, Carth?"

"Not my business, Lal. It really isn't."

She sighed and lowered her head. "Carth…I'm just saying that…maybe, before you…leave, we could…"

"Lal, here's the thing: you're a tourist."

"Excuse me?"

"You're a tourist, Lal. You don't care about what's going on. It doesn't matter that you're some sort of…Jedi warrior, or whatever you are. You don't care. There's nothing to make you care. Davik hurt you so badly that you just don't care about anything."

"That's not true."

"Okay. Whatever. You care. Great. Let me guess what you care about, Lal: you probably care about clearing up this amnesia thing, but not as much as you care about setting up your own smuggling and contraband business…yeah, I chatted with Canderous…You care about Mission's well-being, but not enough to watch out for her anymore. Yeah, I chatted with her, too."

"She…she'll be safer away from me, Carth! Being around me is…it's too dangerous for her."

"Again; whatever. Tell yourself whatever you like. You don't have to convince me, only yourself."

Lal shook her head and turned a confused frown at Carth. "Why are you talking to me like this, Carth? I've done more for you and Mission and Bastila than I've ever done for _anyone_! You wouldn't have gotten off of Taris had it not been for me!"

"You're absolutely right, Lal. If it hadn't been for you…we'd still be on Taris, burning with the rest of its inhabitants."

"I…what, are you blaming me for what the Sith did? That's simply insane, Carth…"

"I'm not blaming you, Lal. There was nothing you could have done. No way any of us could have known Malak would do that…just to kill one person. But here's the thing, Lal…you've got the skill, and the experience…aside from all this Jedi nonsense…you're a fighter. You know how to win. And that's something the Republic needs. You're needed, Lal, do you understand that? You're needed. But do you care? No. You only care about Lal."

"How dare you, Carth! You don't know what I've had to endure! For the past three years! A life of utter slavery! Killing…the…the _other_ things I've had to do…And I didn't have a choice! Is that something you can possibly understand? And if what Bastila told me has any shred of truth to it, I've already done my bit, haven't I? Why, I'm a bloody war hero, I suppose! I've fought just as much as you have, in your precious Mandalorian war! I've done my part for the bloody galaxy, Carth, and I've paid for it. My…my very bloody identity is gone! Replaced with this, _this person_ that I wake up to every morning, that I don't even know! How dare you! How dare you judge me? What have you suffered, Carth? What have you lost to justify this pedestal upon which you so confidently stand, preaching from your bloody pulpit?"

"What have I suffered?" he snarled viciously, surprising her. "Oh, let's see. Not much, really. Just my family. _Just my entire family, Lal_! When Revan and Malak returned from wherever in hell they went, they came back with a real mad-on. And a fleet unlike anything ever before seen. They began blazing through entire systems, Lal. Oh, you didn't know?"

"No, Carth…I didn't…"

"Well, that's what they did. They were Sith, now. Seduced to the Dark Side. If you don't happen to have a clue what that means, let me spell it out: try 'evil'. Try 'psychotic'. Nobody really knows what their goal is…aside from wanton destruction. Death on a galactic scale…Taris wasn't the first planet they raped. Not by a long shot. But there _was_ a first. Telos. _My home_! There was no warning…there was no reason. Telos had no tactical significance. They came in with the Leviathan leading the way, and they bombarded my home for three days straight. That's all it took, really. After the first five hours, our cities and settlements were destroyed. Our infrastructure was crippled. But they kept at it for three days. They turned the surface into ash, Lal. Millions died. Not soldiers, mind you; women and children. My wife. My son. He…Dustil would have been almost the same age as Mission…My wife…hell; she was a lot like you, actually. Stubborn, beautiful…strong…"

Carth trailed off into silence while Lal sat there. Her entire body tingled; her muscles were trembling. Rage had filled her, burned within her, but now, it flooded right out of her, leaving a cold chill. She felt tears welling in her eyes. Tears. It took her a moment to realize she was crying.

"Tears," Carth said in a gravelly whisper. "I was able to cry once, too."

"Carth…I didn't…I didn't know. I'm sorry. I feel terrible…"

Carth glanced at her, suppressing a snarl that curled at the corner of his lips. He released a sigh and closed his eyes. "I know," he said quietly. He turned to face her in his chair and stared deeply into her eyes. "But that's the problem, Lal. _You_ feel. _You_ didn't know. It's always about _you_. That's all you know how to care about. I suppose that's not your fault, and I shouldn't be angry with you. You're just not…built to care, are you? Maybe once, but not anymore."

"Carth…"

"Maybe you should stay away from me from now on, Lal. Every time I look at you…it…I…just please, stay away from me."

The tears rained down Lal's cheeks, now. She had never felt such a flood inside of her. Or perhaps she had and simply couldn't recall. She tried to speak, but her words disintegrated into a blubbery mess. And words would no longer serve anyway. She pushed up from the chair weakly, unsteadily. She placed a hand against the bulkhead for support and staggered off the bridge.

She navigated the corridors of the ship stiffly, feeling the pain from her wounds. She wanted to go to someone and just cry. To be held. To be understood. But she'd never had that before.

She'd never needed it before.

The Ebon Hawk slashed into normal space, trailing streaks of silver light that strained to catch up. The ship's sublight Ion engines cut in with a blue flare, hurling the Hawk towards Dantooine's distant sun. She sliced in-system, speeding past the massive golden and lavender gas giants lacing the outer orbit of the star system. She slipped through a thin asteroid belt with her navigational deflectors screen shoving a cloud of frozen stones from her path. The Hawk rushed past a series of sensor buoys designed to monitor in-system traffic. Soon Dantooine arose before the Ebon Hawk, and lounged in the sun's white glare. The verdant surface of the planet sparkled like an emerald and the Ebon Hawk swarmed across the midnight terminator, where the emerald became onyx. The ship coursed over the nightside surface of the planet and picked up two tiny guests.

Rising on threads of quicksilver, two delta shaped Sweep-Wings burned their sublight drives to leap up to meet the Hawk. The twin fighters unleashed their stubby attack foils and placed sensor locks on the Hawk.

"Those are Jedi ships," Bastila announced, now sitting beside Carth on the bridge.

"I noticed," Carth replied. "They've got a weapons lock on us. Paranoid, aren't they? Set up a commlink, will you?"

Bastila leaned forward and activated the commsystem. "This is Commander Bastila Shan on board the Ebon Hawk, requesting permission to enter Dantooine air space. I repeat, Commander Shan aboard Ebon Hawk."

A voice crackled in reply from the comm. "Commander Shan, it's good to hear your voice. Fine ship you've got, there. Be advised, Ebon Hawk, descend to suborbital, relative two-five-oh angel and maintain on a course zero-seven-five by three-five. We'll walk you in."

The two fighters eased along either side of the Ebon Hawk as she descended into the silver clouds. The ships swept out from the terminator and back into daylight just as morning ignited the clouds with sparks of gold. They continued to descend, and stabbed through the underbelly of the clouds. Far below, the rolling green hills of Dantooine glistened with morning dew and seemed to gleam to the crew of the Hawk. Distant mountains, painted blue and purple by the morning sun, stirred from their slumber, and a flock of manta wings rushed up in a glittering cloud to try and pace the three ships.

On a distant plateau, the Jedi Enclave stood squat and low, languishing in the morning chill. Composed of soft round angles, the compound rolled across the surface of the plateau and appeared to have been grown directly from the grassy rock.

Carth maneuvered the Ebon Hawk over the surface of the Enclave, cutting in the repulsorlifts drives to hover. The ship spun around in a lazy circle as a pair of bay doors cracked open. The landing thrusters fired, dropping their downward momentum, and the Hawk slowly sank between the bay doors into a golden plaza ignited by the morning light. The landing struts gently touched the hard packed soil of the tarmac and clenched to take the weight of the Hawk onto their shoulders.

Great gouts of steam fired from the belly of the ship as her heat sinks dumped energy gathered from friction against the atmosphere. When the heat dissipated, the Hawk lowered its landing ramp. Several figures in brown and gray robes waited in the vast docking plaza.

Carth came down the ramp first, followed by Bastila and Lal. Lal found the sunlight harsh and sharp against her eyes. She squinted in the vorpal glare of the morning and held a hand up to shield her eyes. Behind her came Zaalbar with a relieved howl. He was more than happy to step out of the Hawk's cramped belly. Mission tagged along close behind Zaalbar, her lekku tucked in quivering coils around her blue shoulders. Canderous brought up the rear with a customary scowl. AyVee zipped out above their heads to hover protectively over Lal's shoulder.

One of the robed figures stepped forward and peeled his hood back to reveal a pair of pale green lekku. He was an aged Twi'lek; the spurs above his brow bulged with his advanced years. He cast his pale amber gaze over the crew of the Hawk, lingering on Lal. Then he turned a smile upon Bastila.

"Master Zhar," Bastila smiled warmly, inclining her head slightly.

"It is good to see you, Padawan," The old Jedi replied. "When we heard of Taris' fate, we feared the worst."

"These are my companions, Master," Bastila said. "Captain Onasi you already know, of course. This is Mission Vao, Zaalbar, Canderous Ordo and…Lal Sideen."

Zhar nodded politely to them all, but rested his gaze on Lal. "It is a pleasure to meet you," he told Lal. "A pleasure to meet you all. Bastila, the Council must speak with you immediately. Your friends will be provided accommodations here at the Enclave should they wish to rest."

"Excuse me," Lal said, stepping forward. "If you are Jedi, I would like to speak with you…"

"As I'm certain we will," he said in a voice as smooth as a summer breeze. "However, other matters take precedence for the moment." He laid a hand on Bastila's shoulder and together, with the two other robed Jedi, he drifted away across the packed ground to a corridor that lead down into the ground.

Lal watched them go and suddenly realized she had no power and influence on this world. Her status with Davik meant nothing to these Jedi. They neither feared nor respected her. But since Davik was dead, she supposed it made no actual difference.

"You'll get used to it," Carth told her. "When the Jedi want you for something, oh, they'll find you."

It had been quite a long time since Lal had showered with water instead of sonic waves. The sensation of water striking her body in a thousand tiny explosions was exhilarating. She found it utterly exquisite the way water ran down the channels and curves of her body in whispering rivulets. As soon as she could, she'd have to try an actual bath. The wet shower didn't make her feel quite as scrubbed as a sonic shower, but this felt more natural, like bathing in a rainstorm.

Lal turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. She spent several moments toweling her flesh and hair dry and stepped into the bed chamber. She swept her damp hair back over her shoulders as she pulled the downy covers back from the bed. She was about to climb in when she stopped and turned.

Canderous sat in a chair by the door, wearing only his blue and gray fatigues. He watched her with narrow, appraising eyes, and irritation tightened her lips. She considered covering her nakedness, but there was really nothing within reach. Of course, Canderous would have expected her to chose modesty in his presence. So, instead, she stood there before him, folding her arms across her breasts.

"They don't knock on Mandalore, I take it?" she asked.

"We do, but I decided not to. Why are we here, Lal?"

Lal sighed and walked past him to get a glass of water from the Dispenser in her room. She took a drink and propped her hand on her hip. "Well, I'm here to get some sleep. You're here—and I'm merely speculating—you're here to get yourself a free peep show…"

"It is hardly my fault that you're always in some state of undress when I come to speak with you."

Lal almost found herself laughing. She had to look twice to make sure Canderous wasn't giggling, in fact. "Was that…was that a Mandalorian joke? A bit of sociopathic humor?"

"Heh. Contrary to what you may have been told, Lal, Mandalorians _do_ have a sense of humor. Behold: a Mandalorian, a Corellian and a Weequay walk into a bar…"

"Stop."

"Oh, you've heard that one? Indeed. So, a naked Twi'lek walks into a bar carrying a Kushiban under her arm…"

"Canderous, you're bloody killing me. Could you please stop this?"

"As you wish, Lal. But again, I must ask, why are we here? These Jedi…I do not trust them. Unless you maintain your guard, Lal, they will be your undoing. I have seen it happen."

Lal was reminded of Carth's words, of the battle between Revan's Jedi and the Mandalorian high command. Of course, Canderous was probably there at that battle. "Canderous…I don't know what to tell you…I simply don't. These people…they…they seem to have the key to…whatever I might have been before Davik…_had_ me…I must learn what they know, Canderous. I have little choice in the matter." Lal finished her glass of water and sat down on the edge of the bed, facing away from Canderous. "That does not mean you must stay here, of course. The burdens of my past need not be shouldered by you. You have been a man of your word, of course, Canderous….and I must say, I have been…quite fortunate to have worked with you…"

"Bah. We make a good team, do we not, Lal?"

"Well…yes, but…"

"Well then. And I reckon you will need someone skilled at killing Jedi to watch your back should these dogs become treacherous."

Lal sighed. She couldn't help but be a little irritated. As much as she tried to divorce the destinies of other people from her own unknown fate, it seemed she would never be free to make choices that didn't in some way, affect other people.

"Canderous, I was curious about something: do you like women?"

"As with all things, it depends on the woman in question, Lal. But if you mean to get rid of me by insulting my manhood, it won't work…"

"I'm not insulting your precious _manhood_, Canderous. This is the second time you've had me vulnerable and at your mercy; I would have expected a big strapping man such as yourself to have sated his lusts and so forth…"

"Heh. My composure insults your womanhood, then. I see. Of course, I am a highly desirable warrior, Lal…But I'm afraid, where you are concerned…it simply wouldn't work out. Though it is true you are indeed quite lovely…I've got better things to do than have you slit my throat in the midst of a _passionate_ moment…heh."

Lal could keep a smile from slipping over her lips. The Mandalorian _did _have a sense of humor, it seemed. "You're a credit to your gender, Canderous Ordo."

"If I had a credit for every time a naked woman has told me that…"

Lal chuckled and crawled under the covers. She laid her head against the pillow and nestled into the warmth of her bed. "Canderous, do be a dear and shut the light before you leave. And please knock next time."

"Of course. Sleep well, Lal. And do not dream."

Malak sat cradled within his meditation chamber as Admiral Karath entered his private quarters. He kept his broad back to the Admiral and replaced the respirator against his shattered face. It clamped against his ruined jaw and cheeks with a hiss and a click. He glanced over a massive shoulder at the man.

"Report, Admiral."

"The commander of the _Victorious_ reports that he has been unable to track the ship's ion trail, My Lord. However, from the sensor logs of the encounter, we've been able to tentatively identify the ship as the uh, _Ebon Hawk_, Lord Malak. It is known this vessel is owned by one…Davik Kang…a petty gangster and lowlife. Prior to our arrival, the _Ebon Hawk_ has been involved in several incidents allegedly linked to the Exchange. Nothing has been proven by Republic courts, however."

"Indeed…"

"My Lord, from all accounts, it would appear that Kang, or one of his employees used the ship to evade our Eradicator Platforms, and then managed to escape the _Victorious_ and her fighters."

"No, Admiral. Bastila was on that ship."

"Er…My Lord…it appears…_highly_ unlikely that such was the case…"

"Bastila was on that ship. I have sensed it. There is no doubt, Admiral. And…and there was…_another…_"

_Revan stood in shadow, clad in a suit of gleaming silver armor that seemed to drip with its own light. Revan, the renowned Master Jedi who'd strode across the galaxy, protecting the innocent, bringing the guilty to justice. She couldn't see Revan's face, guarded behind a smooth chrome mask, but she knew the Jedi well enough._

_She glanced around in the darkness and wondered why Revan couldn't see her. The Jedi's attention was focused on something else, something that began to flicker within the darkness. She watched as well, seeing a glow of pale blue light splash across the murky darkness. She heard Revan gasp in surprise as the blue light shaped itself into an eldritch sphere. A deep hum rolled across the black chamber, and she felt it settle deep in her belly. A chill fell over her, and unzipped a pocket of fear in her chest._

_Revan seemed to notice it as well. The Jedi reached out tentatively to caress the surface of the sphere, but pulled back._

_And then,_

…Lal woke up, her heart pounding in unreasoning terror. Sweat had plastered her dark hair to her brow, and soaked her sheets and pillow. She glanced around desperately, certain she was not alone in her room. She sat up, straining to hear anything beyond her own frantic breathing.

"Canderous?" she croaked fearfully. "Is th-that you?"

_"It's me, Revan," Malak replied, reaching out to hold his friend's heaving shoulders. "What is it? What did you see?"_

_"Something…terrible," Revan gasped, pushing Malak's hands away. "Something…something dark…"_

_"Revan, I don't understand," Malak sighed. He glanced around the black chamber they stood in and then looked back at Revan. "What is it?"_

_"Don't you feel it, Malak? This place? Stretch out with your senses…"_

_Malak closed his eyes and lowered his recently shaven skull. Without his full shock of red hair to hide them, the tattoos carved into his skull spoke volumes of his childhood as a slave. Revan saw the young Jedi's face begin to tremble; he sensed it._

_"The…the power of this place…Revan, why didn't we notice it before?"_

_"Other concerns, Malak. Other concerns. The Council's foolishness."_

_Malak nodded. "Yes. Yes, of course. But that leaves us with a problem, Revan. We cannot remain here. Clearly. Not with this…this presence, can we?"_

_Revan sighed and nodded. "I'm forced to agree, Malak. This place is…strong in the Dark Side. We must leave and reseal this place so no one stumbles across it."_

_Malak glanced around uncertainly. Though he towered over Revan with a massivel frame forged from years of long labor, his youth showed; even though he was already a powerful Jedi, he was little more than a boy. But, his decision, his decision to follow Revan, that made him a man._

_"Where will we hide, Revan? There is no place on Dantooine we could possibly hide from the Council if not here…"_

_"We will simply have to be fleet, and we will have to be smarter than they are. As long as we don't make any more mistakes, we should be fine until the Republic ship arrives for us…"_

_Malak nodded, but his handsome face betrayed his nervousness. "And this place?"_

_Revan glanced around and sighed, placing a gauntleted hand upon Malak's broad shoulder. "We must forget it even exists. Even though the Council has failed us, we still have a responsibility to protect them."_


	13. Chapter 10

10: Legacy's Burden

After Lal had finished her shower the next day, she found new clothes laid out on her bed. She held up a tunic of Durosian polyfiber; it flickered gently in the light, shifting through a subtle range of color from a muted sand to a pulsing yellow. She slipped into it, and the polyfiber adjusted immediately to her form, fitting her perfectly. It was nice enough, given the only other clothes she had were torn to shreds and soaked in blood, but it seemed rather like something Davik would have bought for her. The length wasn't exactly modest, and revealed much of her curved thighs. It left her arms completely bare, and she had recalled a chill in the Dantooine air.

But she also noticed a pair of long black gloves, bracers, really, that left her hands uncovered. And beside them a matching pair of boots. She sat down she shoved her feet into them, and pulled the boots all the way up her thighs.

Definitely something more to Davik's tastes than her own.

Better than striding about naked, but only just.

Lal stepped out of her room in the Jedi enclave and went outside. From the height of the sun, she guessed it must have been afternoon, which meant she had slept quite a good deal. But she felt anything but rested. There was an odd tremor in her jaw, a tightness in the muscles along her shoulders. Nothing she could put her finger on. But her nerves were jittery, like she had just gotten out of a fight.

She entered the plaza that the _Ebon Hawk_ rested in, and saw Zaalbar towering over a food kiosk where a Quarren threw up pungent clouds of steam from a pan of stir-fry. Every so often Zaalbar barked out cooking instructions, drawing a scowl from the Quarren chef. Not far away, Mission and Carth sat at a table in the sun, huddled over plates of food. The two of them were laughing and smiling; Carth was teasing the young Twi'lek about something. Mission offered a grinning, token protest.

The smiles fell as Lal approached. Mission glanced away and pretended to find a very interesting patch of dirt on the ground. Carth released a sigh as he glanced up at Lal. He dabbed a napkin to the corner of his mouth and leaned back in his chair.

"You look like you saw the same ghost Bastila did," Carth remarked. "Didn't sleep well? Bad dreams?"

"Um…yes…"

Zaalbar glanced over at them and barked sharply.

"What message?" Lal asked the Wookiee.

"Bastila came out and all…_ordered_ us to tell you the Council wanted to talk to you and junk," Mission growled, turning a cool glare at Lal. Mission's eyes hurt Lal; the way she stared up at her. "Like somebody died and made her queen…"

"Yeah," Carth said. "The Council wants to see you."

"Well," Lal murmured, her eyes lingering painfully on Mission, "I suppose it _is_ time we had a little chat…"

Inside the Jedi Compound at the Enclave, Lal found herself standing in a broad, rounded plaza, lined with trees that reached their dun-colored fronds towards a domed skylight. Native grasses hemmed in a slab of permacrete set up with stone benches. A massive twisting tree dominated the center of the plaza, looming above the ground. The muted earthen paneling seemed designed to dull the passions; to inject calm into the troubled mind. Lal supposed it probably worked most of the time, but her mind was a bit more troubled than most.

A young woman stood waiting by one of the benches. Her hair was pulled tightly back into an uninspired queue, and her athletic figure was wrapped in the customary brown robes Lal had seen the Jedi wear. The woman turned her sharp, severe face towards Lal and took a step in her direction.

"I was told to expect you, Lal Sideen," the Jedi said in a crisp and curt voice. She glanced down at Lal's clothing with a disparaging eye. "The Council awaits you."

She immediately turned and walked down a side corridor. Lal wondered if she was supposed to follow. It seemed likely, but the young woman certainly wasn't disposed to waiting. Lal followed her path and caught up, deciding to engage the woman in conversation.

"The, uh…décor is really…_soothing_, isn't it?" Lal pointed out. When the woman didn't respond, Lal rolled her eyes and mumbled, "quite mind-numbing. So…what's your name?"

"I am Belaya. You will forgive me if I seem occupied. I am."

"Oh. Of course. Occupied by what, if I might ask?"

Belaya stopped with a heavy sigh and turned to face Lal. "Occupied by matters other than escorting a tourist into the Council chambers. Now, if you would step up, please? The Council should not be kept waiting any longer."

"Right. Sorry. Waiting." Lal wondered if the woman had been talking to Carth.

Belaya led Lal in silence into another wide, circular chamber. Standing in the middle of the chamber were three men in Jedi robes. One of them was the Twi'lek master Bastila had greeted yesterday. The other two were humans who seemed just as aged. A fourth Jedi stood amidst them, standing no taller than their knees. Lal had never seen an alien quite like him; impossibly tiny and wizened, with yellowed flesh and a pair of tapered, long ears stretching from either side of his small skull. Bastila waited off to the side, now wearing her own set of robes. She nodded almost imperceptibly to Lal.

Lal came to a stop before the assemblage and glanced around. Beside her, Belaya nodded to the ancient Jedi and spun on her heel to leave.

"Honored Masters," Bastila began reverently, "this is Lal Sideen, the…the woman who assisted my escape from Taris."

"Greetings, Lal Sideen," the tiny alien said in a voice that made Lal think of curdled milk. "A pleasure it is to meet you. I am Master Vandar." He gestured to his right, to the brown-skinned human, "Master Dorak, and Master Vrook. I believe, encountered Master Zhar you did. Aware we are of what Bastila told you. A mistake it was."

Lal glanced at Bastila, and had a brief moment of hope that this was all one big mistake. But the dread inside her did not lessen any. Lal opened her mouth to demand some answers, but immediately thought better of it. She was certain these old beings would speak in their own measured time, and no one else's. And, as if measuring her, Vandar nodded.

"Hmm," he grunted sagely, deciding whatever he had decided about her. "Bastila's words to you were true, yes. But…premature were they. Better it would have been had we discussed this matter with you. Hmm. Unavoidable it was, I suppose," he continued, eyeing Bastila briefly. "Unlikely that you would have come with her…if told you she had not."

"Unavoidable, yes," Master Zhar agreed. "But…it is good that you have returned to us, Lal. You have been sorely missed. Yes."

Bastila could not contain a loving smile at Lal. "You are among friends, Lal…among…family…"

Lal nodded, thinking at first Bastila was merely speaking in metaphor. But then, it dawned on her; the same hair. The same eyes. The same stilted inflections when she spoke…

"Bastila…what are you…saying…?"

"You know it, Lal. You've known it since we first met," Bastila said.

"No. That's just not…are you telling me you're my…_sister_?"

"Well do your feelings serve you, Lal," Master Vandar nodded in approval.

"I didn't tell you because…well…" Bastila fished for the proper words.

"Because I would have accused you of lying," Lal supplied.

Bastila shrugged and nodded. "Yes…In your dream, Lal…the little girl? That was me. You were protecting me. Do you remember?"

"Of course I…how did you know what I dreamed? How could you know that?"

Vandar spoke up with a grunt. "Hmm. Strong in the Force the two of you are. Sisters. And Jedi. A bond do you share. Always has it been so."

Lal nodded absently, trying to accept what she was being told. But her mind raced with questions. "We…what about our parents? My parents? Are they…Jedi? As well?"

"Our parents, Lal…no, they are not Jedi. The Force is strong in our family, but we are the first to ever receive training. You must understand…we were brought to the Academy when we were very young. I was still a baby when you were first accepted to the Academy. When I was of sufficient age, I was accepted as well."

"Are they…alive? Where are they? What do they do? Have you told them…_anything_?"

"Lal," Master Zhar said softly, "these are matters best left between you and your sister. For another time. For now, there are other…more pressing matters."

"Other matters?" Lal frowned. "What could be that important? For three years, I have been…I haven't known who I am! Now you tell me…I find out…I…I want to know everything! I deserve to know!"

"Calm yourself, child," Master Vrook growled harshly, scowling at Lal. "Such outbursts do not befit a Jedi Knight. If…indeed, that's what you are."

She stared at Vrook for the first time, examining his gruff demeanor. He stared back at her with undisguised distaste. "What do you mean by that? Am I a Jedi, or not?"

"Without a doubt, you once were," Master Zhar said. "But in these past three years, you have been in the wilderness. Untethered to the teachings of the Jedi. Without the guidance of the Council, you have…drifted from the path, Lal. Dangerously far."

"Because of…what I have done…" Lal murmured, her eyes drifting to the floor beneath her boots.

"Many have you slain, Lal," Master Vandar said gravely. "Death is strong upon you. But also have you been a champion of life. Sense the struggle in you we do. It is this struggle, Lal, which win you must. For desperately needed…_you_ are."

"You have dreamed again," Master Zhar announced. "We know this, because Bastila has shared your dream, child. A dream of the past. Revan and Malak."

"I…yes," Lal whispered. "Why…why would I dream about them?"

Master Dorak spoke up to reply; "When Revan and Malak defied the Council in order to fight the Mandalorians, you were among the Jedi who…who followed them. At the time, you were stationed on Taris, handling a labor dispute that had erupted into terrible violence."

"Yes," Vrook hissed. "You abandoned your duties to join Revan and Malak. To make war."

"I don't…remember, obviously…but the war…it's my understanding that Revan and Malak prevented the Mandalorians from enslaving the entire galaxy. Why was that…wrong?"

"Well, Lal," Dorak went on, "it was a complicated time in the history of the Republic. For millennia, thousands of systems have sought the benefit of membership within the Republic. Though a largely democratic body, the Republic can still be technically classified as an expansionist power. An empire, if you will. Now, the Mandalorians…they were also a race of conquerors. Like all conquerors, they had an imperative to expand. Until the first few conflicts arose, due to vast differences in technological advances…space travel, primarily, the Mandalorians were largely contained within their own area of the galaxy. It was the Republic that first intruded on their territory. They sent peaceful envoys, mind you, but always with the intention of adding the Mandalorian territories to the Republic.

"Well, of course, knowing the Mandalorians as we do, they resisted," Dorak continued. "Conflicts arose here and there; political maneuvering. That sort of thing. It continued for many years, Lal. The Republic suspected the Mandalorians were preparing a large offensive against Outer Rim systems, and decided to counter this threat. The battle occurred near the singularity known as Kalor Rim. It was the first shot that truly sparked the war."

Lal glanced at them all as the old man fell silent. "I'm…sorry, but what has that to do with what Revan and Malak did?"

"Well, Lal," Dorak sighed, "the point of my…ahem, admittedly _lengthy_ overview of the war's start was to show you that it's really rather highly debatable that the war would have even raged as heatedly and as long as it did, had not the Republic engaged the Mandalorians in battle at Kalor Rim. I trust you can guess why the Republic forces made this attack, Lal?"

She didn't even need to think about it. "They wanted to make the enemy commit prematurely, waste their forces and show their tactical strength."

Dorak smiled and tossed a crafty wink at Vrook. "Very good, Lal. You were always an apt pupil. Yes, it was tactically sound. And the strategy might have weakened any other foe. But the Mandalorians are nothing if not…tenacious. It only heartened them for battle. It showed the Republic to be, in their eyes, a worthy foe. Instead of eliminating the prospect of a war, the Republic actually fanned the fire. In light of this, when the Republic came to the Jedi Council for aid, we initially refused. The judgement of the Republic's leaders…could not be trusted in this matter. We had our reasons, of course. And we had a solution to the problem. Our goal was to avoid the needless slaughter of billions which followed in the course of the war. In the meantime, the Mandalorians _did_ engage in wholesale slaughter. Jedi like…like Revan believed that, while we were deciding what to do, people were dying needlessly. Instead of trusting in the wisdom of the council, Revan acted hastily."

"War, Lal," Vrook cut in sharply, "is always a matter of attrition. Where there is death, there can be no true victory. When faced with war, the wise man does his best to minimize the death which _will_ occur. Revan's sensibilities held sway over logic. Though Revan's actions saved the Republic from Mandalorian rule, the number of deaths involved were…incalculable. Revan's actions never gave the Council a chance to try another solution. One that would have spilled far less blood. It was foolish and short-sighted. And, it had a side effect Revan did not foresee. The stress of the war, the bloodshed, the straining of morality and ethics…it plunged Revan on a course to the Dark Side."

"Hmm," Vandar grunted. "Revan returned angry. Full of hate. War makes monsters of men. While men fight, kill they must. Instincts they build. And well do these instincts serve them on the battlefield. But these sensibilities, when war ends, do not die so easily. Revan had become cruel. A…a beast. And so, shun our aid, Revan did. And Malak too. Always the follower was Malak. Loyal to a fault. Emotions guided him more than reason. Left the Inner Systems did those two, and a handful of loyalists. Beyond the Outer Rim did they travel, and there, sought dark truths did they. Dark truths. It is…no one truly knows the horrors they did encounter beyond known space. But, when return they did, Revan and Malak had embraced the profane ways of the Sith. And a great fleet did they command."

"Several years ago, Lal," Dorak said, "Revan's fleet engaged the forces of the Republic and the Jedi. A new Sith War began. And the Sith Lord, Revan, was all but unstoppable. No one knew how Revan had built such a massive fleet in so short a time. Within a few short months, they threatened the Core Systems, and Coruscant itself. Worlds once thought unassailable now lay bare before the teeth of Revan's dark fleet; Alderaan, Commenor, even Coruscant. In a terrible battle on the edge of the Koornacht Cluster, the Republic Fleet and the Sith fleet clashed. We sent a special team of Jedi to infiltrate Revan's forces, to engage the Dark Lord in single combat and throw the Sith forces into disarray. This was accomplished, Lal, largely because of your sister."

"Basi? I mean…Bastila?" Lal asked. "Why?"

"Bastila has been gifted with a rare talent, Lal," Zhar explained. "Battle Meditation. By entering a deep trance, she can…affect minds on a great scale. She can…compromise the morale and tactics of an enemy, or inspire a friendly force to greater efforts. In the heat of battle, one moment's indecision can bring ruin to the best laid plan. The effect was devastating to Revan's forces."

"I…I remember…" Lal murmured, recalling an old dream. "It was Bastila! And…someone named…Jan…Janna? Her…her brother…Reeno…"

Bastila stepped forward and gripped Lal's shoulder in surprise. "Yes, Lal! It…that's a nightmare I have sometimes…I still see it…like I'm still there…what else do you recall?"

Lal glanced up at Bastila with widened eyes. "You were there to kill Revan, weren't you?"

Bastila swallowed and glanced nervously to the Masters. "Lal…"

"Only you didn't. Couldn't. Something stopped you…"

"Malak chose that moment to turn on his Lord, Lal," Vrook said. "It is the treacherous nature of the Sith. He wanted the power for himself. From his flagship, he fired on the bridge of Revan's ship. On that day, Revan died. Bastila barely escaped with her life. She spent a long time recovering from her injuries."

Lal frowned at her younger sister, her baby sister. Basi. A tear rolled down Lal's cheek and she held Bastila's shoulders. "Wh-why wasn't I there? I should have been there, shouldn't I?"

"Oh, Lal…"

"Lal," Zhar said, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder, "had you been able, certainly you would have been there. But…the war had not…left you well. You were…you were not yourself. Battle stress. Psychological trauma. Perhaps it was guilt over…over what you had done. Been forced to do. You required…care. Here, safe on Dantooine."

"Oh," Lal whispered softly. She could feel the room beginning to spin around her. Her head dropped onto Bastila's shoulder and the younger woman cradled her skull to her.

"Masters," Bastila said, "this is too much for her to hear now…she needs rest…time to--"

"We do not have time, Bastila," Vrook cut in. "And you know this. Malak is now the Dark Lord of the Sith. And his cruelties know no bounds. He has the same power Revan once had, the power of an unstoppable fleet. He must be stopped."

Lal leaned on Bastila and forced herself to focus. She gazed deeply into Bastila's eyes and saw herself reflected. Her skin, her flesh. Her blood and bones and thoughts and feelings. She saw her dreams, her nightmares. But all of this was clouded in darkness. A veil she could not feel her way through. None of them could.

'You need me to remember," she muttered in a broken voice. "But why? So I can fight a war singlehandedly?"

"You are needed, Lal," Bastila told her, cupping Lal's face in both her hands. "I need my sister. And the Council…the Council needs the one Jedi Knight who knows what Malak's…and Revan's secrets are."

"Sister," Lal said, nodding weakly. "Yes…I can…I can feel it. Sister. Bastila…I don't know if I…if I'm up to this…"

"You won't be alone, Lal," Bastila smiled. "Will you at least try?"

"I…I will try, Bastila…"

"Trying," Vrook growled, "is insufficient. When you take a step along a path, you do not _try_. You either _do_, or you fall. It is that simple. A Jedi does not try, Lal. A Jedi acts. When a Jedi acts, his course must be decided within the space of a heartbeat. Is that understood?"

"I…I understand." Of course she understood. It was how Lal had lived in the shadows of Taris for three dark years.

Vrook narrowed his eyes at her. "I wonder that you do."

"Perhaps," Zhar interrupted, "perhaps Bastila is correct. Lal, please return to your quarters to rest. We will reconvene in the morning at First Sun. Perhaps now you should spend time with your sister."

"I don't want to sleep anymore, Bastila," Lal said as they stepped into the brassy afternoon sunlight. "I don't know what I want…I wish I could remember the things you say. I can feel them…like they're pushing at me…in a dark room or something…I can feel them there. But I can't…"

"Don't worry about it, Lal," Bastila told her. "Perhaps…maybe we should go for a walk, Lal. For three years, all you've seen have been the shadows of Taris. You forgot the planet where you were happiest."

Lal chuckled. "You said I had a garden somewhere?"

Bastila smiled at her and nodded. "We'll need to rent a speeder."

Twenty minutes later, they were coursing out of a hangar built at the base of the plateau; skimming the grassy surface in a sleek Aratech late model landspeeder. Lal wasn't sure, but thought it might have been the A-31. It was a slim-bodied two-seater coupe, with a tear drop taper that ran from the front to the pointed cowling at the rear. Beneath the open rear cowling screamed a pair of oversized thrusters that hurled the speeder faster than the wind.

Lal brushed a whipping strand of hair from her eyes and watched the smooth, grassy slopes churn past. Once, long ago, Dantooine had been shrouded in great mountains of ice, chained together across the surface of the planet. Those frozen titans had carved great scars into the land in the wake of their agelessly slow passage.

When the ice melted and formed the shallow, low lying seas of Dantooine, great scoops had been carved from the land in long, broad swaths. Mountains had been whittled away into rounded stacks and lonely plateaus ruling shallow valleys and flattened bottoms. Broad floodplains cut deep inland, and when the seas receded, rich, arable soil was left in the waters' wake.

Now the wide vales of Dantooine were seeded throughout the year with tall grasses colored gold and green. Squat towers of chalky white stone peeked up from the grass and short canyons guarded ancient riverbeds, now run riot with tall grass and wild yellow weeds.

Lal marveled at how open and broad the plains were; unspoiled by the touch of durasteel and glass. She felt almost naked within the lone speeder, cruising across the flat land, with no towering skyscrapers or mountainous Arcologies to crowd away the sunlight. Here, she could see for miles, and bask free and openly in the sun. The air tasted moist with the unchained scent of living things, of vibrant fertile soil. She could even smell water in the air, rushed across the lowlands from the oceans, and unhindered by any mountains.

The plateau bearing the Enclave fell swiftly behind them as they entered a series of low, broad hillocks. Dotting the crests of these squat hills were low walled dwellings; settlements of farmers and ranchers. Every so often, Lal would see sophisticated communications relay towers blinking with crimson lights at their crowns. And a few dwellings hosted landing pads for private ships atop their broad roofs. But for the most part, Dantooine was free of the spreading virus of man's touch.

A half hour later, they slipped into a small vale where a single dwelling clung to a gentle slope. It was a single story building with long, low running walls that angled back against the valley wall behind the house. A small landing pad stood at the top of the slope, and stone stairs carved down from it to the house. Alongside the house, in tiered terraces lay the garden Bastila had promised. _Gardens_, to be sure, since each terrace held its own bed of bright yellow and red and lavender flowers. Bastila drew the speeder along the base of the slope and shut down the engines.

"This is it," she said, hopping out of the speeder and bouncing up a series of steps that lead to the front door. Lal climbed out and followed Bastila up. The entrance was sunken into the white walls, creating a break from the whipping breeze. Bastila pressed her palm against a clear panel to the side of the door and it slid open to admit them.

Inside, lights automatically snapped on, running in tracks along the ceiling. Lal couldn't see a single hard angle anywhere in the house. The walls literally curved around them in gentle arcs that made Lal feel like she was cuddled in a warm embrace. As she stepped down into the sunken living room, she brushed a hand over the cushion of a low, curved couch and knew she was home.

Bastila walked into the kitchen and dialed up two glasses of fressa-flavored water. She came back out to the living room and handed a glass to Lal. Bastila sank down into the couch before Lal and kicked her boots off.

"I've always loved this place," Bastila told Lal. Lal sat down, folding one leg beneath her and let herself sink into the cushions beside Bastila.

"My apartment on Taris was so…crowded…tiny," Lal purred. "This place is so…soft…"

Bastila smiled faintly as she stared at the tunic Lal wore. "There are some clothes in your bedroom. Something a bit more…or perhaps, less…"

"What's wrong with this?" Lal asked, glancing down at herself.

"Oh Lal, you look as if Mission had dressed you. Come to think of it, she probably laid that out for you."

"I like it," Lal said defensively as her thoughts turned towards the Twi'lek that might as well have been another sister.

Bastila chuckled and rose from the couch. "Your thoughts betray you, sister."

"Alright," Lal sighed. "Perhaps it does seem a bit…slutty."

"I'm sure Mission had the best intentions," Bastila said, disappearing down a hallway.

Lal leaned forward to tug her boots off. Her gloves went next, and she hugged herself absently, glancing around. She rose and walked bare-footed over the thick carpet to a shelf of holodisks that dominated an entire wall. She looked over the titles on the spines, noting that books on gardening rested next to studies on tactics and history. "I suppose I must have varied interests," she murmured.

"What was that?" Bastila called from down the hall.

"Nothing. I…" Lal turned to an end table and saw a holopic. "I was just…talking to myself…" She reached down and picked up the base of the holopic. The crystal image emitter threw forth an image of a man and a woman, both smiling. The woman held a tiny little girl with Bastila's eyes. An older girl stood before the man, and wore a crooked smile. Lal touched her own lips, wondering if that smile belonged to her.

Bastila came out from the hallway, holding up two dark colored tunics. "This one is a bit more your style. A tad more modest. But this one…well, you always liked to show off your…" She laid the outfits on the couch and walked up to peer over Lal's shoulder at the picture.

"Mother and Father," she said. "I think you were…four, maybe? Five? I don't really recall. I think it was taken right before they sent you to the Academy, so you couldn't have been more than six. I have no idea how old I was in that."

"How old am I, Bastila?"

"I'm twenty-five," Bastila said, "so that makes you thirty, dear old lady."

"Thirty? That's not old!"

"Older than me is old," Bastila told her.

"I'm guessing I also tended to smack you a lot," Lal muttered.

Bastila just smiled and flicked her eyes back to the picture. "That picture was taken on Ord Mantell, as I recall."

"Is that where we're from?"

Bastila shook her head. "We're from…_all over_. Father is an archeologist. Rather…he was. He was a professor at the University on Coruscant. By the time I was born, _Mother_ had convinced him there was more money in treasure hunting. So, because of her, we moved from planet to planet, always on the look-out for that next dig site."

"Mother," Lal whispered, staring at the pretty woman holding Bastila. "Tell me about them, Basi."

"Not much to tell really. You got your poor sense of fashion from mother. She was a socialite. Came from wealth. Some corporate family. We were never allowed to talk about it because they apparently disowned her for marrying Father. She was born on Kuat, I believe."

"Are you telling me we're heir to the Kuat fortune?" Lal gasped. "That's almost a death sentence!"

"She was disowned, remember? Shunned but safely removed from their corporate politics. But, she's always clung to the old trappings of her former life. Very materialistic woman. Father, however…he's a scholar. A genius. He was chair of the department at University. Before we were born, he led the dig on Duros which uncovered the connections between a series of ancient runic tablets scattered across the Inner Core. He's…he's a great man, Lal."

"How…how do I get in touch with them, Basi?"

"Hmm? How do you mean, Lal?"

Lal turned a confused frown at her sister. "I mean I'd like to see them, Bastila! Don't you talk to them? Don't you have a way to contact them?"

Bastila sighed and sat down on the couch. "Lal…this may be difficult to understand…"

"Bastila…are they dead?"

"I…no. I mean…I shouldn't think so…Lal, when a child is placed into the Academy, all contact with family is…well…severed. You and I were a rare exception…"

"Wait a second, Bastila…allow me to understand this; you're saying you haven't spoke to our parents…._since you were six years old_? Are you joking?"

"Lal…a Jedi must not be bound by emotional attachments. Emotional attachments cloud a Jedi's judgment. There is no emotion, Lal. There is peace. It is the very foundation of our beliefs."

"Bastila…that…that doesn't make any bloody sense! You tell me I have a family, and then you tell me I _can't_ have a family? That is absolutely…absurd!"

"Lal," Bastila reached out and took Lal's hands in her own. "The Jedi have these disciplines for a reason. An important one. Emotion can lead to anger. Anger can lead to hate. Hate is the path to the Dark Side."

Lal shook her head angrily and tugged her hands free of Bastila's grasp. "Dark Side, Dark Side! I keep hearing this! It makes no sense to me and you people are flinging it about as if it's some universal law that no one told me about! Revan turned to the _Dark Side_! Malak turned to the _Dark Side_! Is that the Jedi way of saying they're both complete nutters? Many men have become psychopathic lunatics and there was less…less _ceremony_ involved in it! The Dark Side! What is that supposed to mean? You make it sound as if they simply went to play for a rival team!"

"Men become seduced by evil. By…the ease of killing. By the lure of power. You're absolutely right, Lal; it happens all over the Galaxy. It becomes easier to kill after you've taken that first life. It becomes easier to steal after that first robbery. No one disputes that, sister. But…how to put this…imagine a politician. He begins his first term of office with a clear desire to do good for his constituents. But he finds that there are, in the halls of power, certain ways to accomplish certain things. In order to do the greatest good, he must turn a blind eye to a minor evil. Perhaps he must bribe another official to accomplish his noble goals. And there, the downward spiral begins. In order for him to continue his work, he must find a way to stay in power. Perhaps more bribes. Perhaps this time, he must intimidate another candidate out of the race. And by the time he is re-elected, he has grown accustomed to doing things in that certain way. And also by this time, maintaining his power becomes more important than using it to help others. I'm sure you've seen this happen, haven't you?"

"Of course, Basi. It was business as usual on Taris." _I often helped them down that spiral…_

"In the case of a politician, or a corrupt constable, or a killer, their…_seduction_ is a dark tragedy, yes. But they will always be limited by the fact that…that they are still normal beings. Without his office, the politician is a simple man. Without his badge, the constable is a man. Without his knife, the murderer is just a simple person.

"But…a Jedi, Lal…a Jedi is quite different. A Jedi learns to master the Force. He gains abilities that no one else can know. With the Force, a Jedi could…could kill with a simple gesture, Lal. He could change a man's thoughts. A Jedi is rather more than some soldier who is trained to use a lightsaber; he is…a being connected to the most powerful of energies. A Jedi must be disciplined to use these abilities wisely. For, if he is not…like all simple beings, he will abuse that power. And it becomes easier and easier as time passes. But the power a Jedi can abuse…it can destroy a Galaxy, Lal. And so it will be with Malak. Revan and Malak…they were great Jedi. Compassionate, just, noble, brave. But they saw the suffering of those the Mandalorians attacked and enslaved. They saw it and deemed it a tragedy. They were correct. But they let their emotions get in the way of their discipline. And because of this, they fought a war in which billions of people died. And because they were led by their emotions, Lal, they found it prudent to use savagery against the savagery of the Mandalorians. Savagery became easier. And easier. Emotion led them along this path, Lal."

"Emotion didn't led them to evil, Bastila. That's absurd. Emotion is…it's what makes us…well…it connects us. It gives us compassion…understanding for others! It binds us, Bastila!"

"Listen to yourself," Bastila smiled sadly.

"What? What's wrong?"

"You said these same things once before, Lal. Actually, you said them quite often. But you told me these words right before you left to join the war. It's quite ironic, Lal. You may not remember who you were, but every moment you become more yourself. Tell me something: when you were still the assassin, the weapon of Davik, how would you have viewed compassion? As a strength? Or as a weakness?"

Lal closed her eyes and pressed a hand to her forehead. "A weakness," she sighed.

"The obvious love you have for Mission…have you not seen it as a liability?"

"Yes. Mission…she is dear to me. Fool girl that she is. And it's damn well nearly gotten me killed. A year ago…I wouldn't have…allowed myself to feel anything for her…"

"Perhaps. But you have always been so very full of love, Lal. You've never hesitated to protect those weaker than you…It's a virtue that shows you are truly my sister; the Jedi who was lost to us. But like all things, that virtue must be tempered by discipline."

"Maybe…I suppose, Bastila. How can I argue? How can I defend myself when…when you already know more about me than I do? How am I supposed to accept this? To...to be _okay_ with it?"

"Lal, it's not about arguments. It's not about winning or losing between us. You are who you are. I'm not trying to prove you wrong."

"But…Bastila…listen to me; I know I'm…a monster. When I fought Davik, I…I wanted to die. I wanted to kill him so badly…And I didn't care if I had to die in order to do it."

"Lal…"

"No, let me finish. I had to kill him because I knew what he would do to Mission…to Carth, to you…to Zaalbar. But, I figured…it was alright…to die…because of all the things _I've_ done…"

"Lal, that's all in the past."

"Basi, _please_!" Lal cried, turning away from her sister. "I did see compassion as a weakness, Bastila. And it made me into…into a killer. Divorcing myself from my compassion allowed me to…_do_ the things I did. My feelings for Mission…and the Carpet…those were the only things about me that…that I don't really regret. I would have let Mission die if I hadn't cared about her. Don't you see?"

"Yes, Lal. I understand. And…don't take this the wrong way, but you mistake me. A Jedi does need compassion. But not just compassion for a sister…or a mother. Compassion for everyone around her. To focus on a single emotional bond to the exclusion of all others…_that_ is what leads to…well, it leads to a lack of perspective. When you devised your plot to rescue Mission, Lal…she was all you were thinking about in that moment. If you had distanced yourself a bit from that blinding emotion, you would have realized that Carth and I could be trusted to know your plan. To help you! To keep you from nearly dying as you did! That was why I was upset with you on the _Ebon Hawk_, Lal. Not because I'd felt you tried to betray me. I knew who you were, and I knew better than that. I was upset because I could have kept you from being hurt…_if_ I had known what you were planning."

Lal released a gasping sigh, and felt the tears coming again. She squeezed her eyes shut to stop them, but they came none the less in a heaving tide that sent her shoulders shuddering. Bastila rose to her feet behind Lal and slipped her arms around Lal's waist. She laid her head against Lal's shoulder and held her tightly.

"Lal, that life…it's gone, now. What you were forced to be…that person is gone. I know it will be difficult for you to accept. But…I also know…you'll feel better. You still don't remember the events…the moments, but I know that you feel them, Lal. We argued like this all the time. But we always made up, too. I was afraid…this time…I wouldn't get the chance…but I've found you. And I love you."

"Bastila…I want to see my parents. It might…not be…_standard_…"

"But these are not standard circumstances," Bastila finished for her, patting Lal's shoulder. "I understand. Perhaps the Council will understand as well. I suggest we make a pact, Lal. When this is over, when we have defeated Malak…we'll go and see our parents."

Lal turned around in Bastila's grasp and looked down into her eyes. "I…alright, Bastila."

Bastila smiled and pulled away. She took a sip of her water and sighed deeply. "You will never be alone. I will always be at your side, Lal. Oh! I just remembered something! Stay right there." Bastila dashed back down the hallway.

Lal sat down on the couch again, and stared down at her feet. She clenched her toes in the thick rug, losing her thoughts in the plush softness. So, now, all of a sudden, she was no longer a killer. She was a Jedi. A guardian of life. So, why didn't she feel any different? What exactly did these people expect her to do?

Bastila came back down the hall and said, "These are yours, Lal."

Lal rose and walked over. Bastila held up two gleaming metal cylinders. A pair of identical lightsabers. A cold tingle trickled down her spine as Lal stared at the weapons; weapons of a Jedi. She reached out a trembling hand, but then snatched it back. She glanced at Bastila uncertainly. "Which one?"

Bastila smiled. She held both cylinders end to end and screwed them together with a single twist. She handed the joined lightsaber over and Lal gingerly took it.

Lal felt her hand slipping into an unseen groove, locking strangely into place upon the surface of the hilt. It fit within her palm like a lost piece of a puzzle; like her hand had been forged to mate with the hilt. Two lightsabers locked together to form one; each identical. Her eyes coursed over the surface, found the trigger plate that would ignite one blade…and the twin trigger that ignited the second blade, from the opposite end. She unscrewed the hilt and separated it again into two weapons. She hefted both in her hands; felt the weight of each.

"When you became a Padawan learner, you made this," Bastila explained, stepping back and folding her arms across her breasts. Over the years, you modified it….so that it could break down into two separate weapons."

"Does yours break down as well?" Lal asked.

Bastila nodded. "You gave me this one as a gift…before you left. I've never since used another one. When it was…returned to me…on Taris…I knew you had gotten it back for me…"

Lal smiled. She held one of them away from Bastila and thumbed the trigger plate. Her breath caught in her throat as a stream of lavender light thrust forth with a crackling hiss. She stared at the blade and felt her heart pounding. The lavender energy blade hummed as it kissed the air around it. She waved it about and listened as the hum changed pitch…as it sang. "It feels different than a vibroblade," she told Bastila. "The balance is different."

"It has no resistance as it moves. No friction. It does not so much cut through the air as it does…_utterly disregard it_. Anyone who is not a Jedi…to simply hold the weapon is almost as dangerous as being attacked by one."

Lal recalled how clumsily Brejik had used Bastila's stolen lightsaber. She remembered turning her swoop rig back to go and search for it after he'd dropped it.

She closed the blade down and glanced up at Bastila. "I don't think--"

"Exactly! Do not think! Just _do_!"

Lal glanced at her in surprise. She looked back down at the lightsabers in her hand and sucked in a deep breath. "Alright, Basi. Show me…"

"Nice ship," Calo growled, glancing around the dimly lit bridge of the _Leviathan_. He tried his best to ignore the pain hissing down his back and arms; the flesh was still raw where his clothes had been ignited by that scum, Canderous. Calo had spent several days floating in a Kolto Bath in the _Leviathan's_ sick bay. They'd scraped him up off the smoldering ground of Taris. At first, he didn't know why. Calo had never known anything like charity. They hadn't saved his life and nursed him back to health for his personality.

They needed him.

The Naval Adjutant who had escorted him to the bridge gave him a sour glare. "Wait here," she told him. The Adjutant walked to the forecastle of the bridge where two figures stood gazing out the forward screen at the stars. One he recognized. Admiral Karath. He'd been in to see Calo in sick bay. Not a social call, of course. Just there to check out the newest merchandise. Calo hadn't particularly appreciated that thought, especially now that he saw the other man at the forecastle.

Darth Malak was a mountain draped in crimson. He towered above every other man on the bridge, and his shoulders were like jagged cliffs. A dark red cloak swept down from one of those shoulders, fluttering in a gust of air that Calo could not feel. His shaven skull bore a set of slave brands burned into the flesh. Malak wore them almost like a badge. He turned and laid slitted eyes of coal upon Calo. Calo almost released a gasp when he saw the strange breathing apparatus clamped around the lower half of Malak's face. It made the flesh and bone above the mask seem like nothing so much as a skull bearing a steel rictus grin; like the metal mask, the angles of his face were sharp and cold.

Karath gestured Calo forward. Like all men of power, Karath was obviously accustomed to being obeyed instantly. And his crew-cut lackeys probably fell over themselves to be the first to kiss his spit shined boots. But Calo knew who the real power was. He walked over slowly, glancing briefly at Karath before inclining his head to Malak.

"Lord Malak," Karath said pridefully, "the bounty hunter I mentioned. Calo Nord. He was, of late, employed by Davik Kang."

Malak scraped his cold gaze over Calo and glanced back at the stars. "Admiral, I trust you are not wasting my time. Is the combined might of the Sith fleet suddenly insufficient to the task of tracking one ship?"

"Er…Nord has some interesting information to share, My Lord…"

Calo shrugged and made Karath sweat for a moment or two. But not too long. He'd heard enough tales about the Sith. "I take it you want to locate the _Ebon Hawk_, Lord Malak," Calo said. "Your soldier boys ain't gonna have much luck, I guarantee. I don't know how resourceful that Jedi girl is, but she's got herself some special help. Lal Sideen and Canderous Ordo. There's enough cunning and experience between the two of them to run your fleet in circles trying to pin them down."

Malak slowly turned to gaze down at Calo. "Who did you say?"

"Lal Sideen…Canderous Ordo. Both were hitters for Davik."

Karath nodded, with a tiny, nervous smile. "It is _her_, Lord Malak…She yet lives."

That surprised Calo. Obviously, the Sith Lord had some business with Lal. He had no idea what sort of business, and doubted they'd tell him. But he suddenly knew he was exactly where he needed to be. "You can tear the galaxy apart from one end to the other," Calo said casually, "but if she doesn't want to be found, you never will."

"Am I to gather that you know where she is?" Malak hissed.

'"Not at all," Calo admitted. "But, while your officers are wasting time trying to track down ion trails, I'm already a step ahead." He tapped the side of his skull and nodded. "I know how she thinks. I can find her."

Malak turned a glare at Karath and nodded once.

"Mr. Nord, We will place your services on retainer," Karath said to Calo. "We require the Jedi, Bastila Shan and Lal Sideen. Alive."

Calo nodded. "I'll need a ship, of course. And a little bit of latitude."

"Latitude?" Karath chuckled incredulously.

"Yeah, _Sarge_," Calo growled at him. "Space. Leeway. Room to do my job."

Karath's brow beetled and his hollow cheeks flushed. "Now you listen here--"

"You will have your _latitude_, bounty hunter," Malak said. "But be mindful of this, Calo Nord: the price for failure is very steep. Very steep indeed."

"I can't imagine this is actually the best way to go about this," Lal complained, rubbing her numb bottom. Her backside was beginning to feel like a pincushion. A tiny spherical training drone gusted about her head, hovering and spinning. Up until about five minutes ago, the drone had been peppering her arms and legs and her bottom with low yield stun blasts. They lanced out like needles, evading her best efforts to deflect them with the blade of her lightsaber.

"Perhaps it would be more productive to use an assault droid," Bastila suggested. Lal threw a scowl her way. The two of them stood atop the landing platform above Lal's house, and as the sun set, the wind began whipping at their clothes and hair.

Lal began to regret the fact she was wearing only a thin tunic. Not only had the temperature dropped significantly, but it left her lower delicates quite vulnerable to the merciless accuracy of the damned drone. After an hour of this nonsense, she was almost certain both the drone and Bastila were gaining some hidden amusement at both her distress and obvious clumsiness.

"What I wouldn't give for a blaster," Lal growled under her breath, choking up her grip on the long hilt of her lightsaber.

"The point of the exercise is not to _shoot_ the drone, Lal," Bastila reminded her for perhaps the twentieth time. "It's not even to destroy it with your lightsaber."

"I know, I know," Lal groaned irritably. "It's to avoid being hit."

"No. It's to give yourself in to the embrace of the Force, Lal. Close down your weapon, please."

Lal sighed and deactivated her lightsaber. The lavender beam shrank down into the hilt with a hiss. She balled a fist on her hip and glared at Bastila.

"Lal…when you use your blaster…or…when you ball up your fist to strike an opponent…tell me: are you actively calculating the distance to your target? Determining the pitch of your weapon in relation to the target? Of course not. You learn the skills and then let your body put them into practice. You…_surrender_ your active thought to trained instinct. When you walk, do you _think_ about placing one foot in front of the other? Or do you just do it? Your training is already there, Lal; think about this for a moment. Why do you think you were so…proficient as…well…"

"As a killer," Lal finished, lowering her eyes.

"Yes. Forgive my bluntness, sister. You didn't stop to question your talents, your…your_ whims_ of cunning, did you? So it must be now. I grant that this is…difficult for you. Things are much more complicated for you, now. You have these skills, but you must remember that you have already mastered them. Not an easy task. Your body knows, but your mind…does not."

"Maybe…maybe I bit off more than I can chew, Bastila…Perhaps we should--"

Bastila flashed into a whirl, and golden light spilled forth from her hand with a sharp crackle. Lal felt her body moving and her mind distantly shrieking as Bastila's lightsaber blistered towards her face. The golden light flared mercilessly before her eyes, smothering her vision. For the briefest of seconds, Lal thought Bastila was going to tear her throat out with her weapon. But her sister had stopped her blade only a few inches from Lal's throat.

And then, Lal's mind caught up with her body. Bastila hadn't stopped her strike at all; Lal's own lightsaber had. It hummed and crackled in her hand, grinding against Bastila's golden beam. Lal glanced down, and saw her own hands, holding the lightsaber before her body, blocking Bastila's strike.

"How did I--"

"Do not think!" Bastila snarled, whipping around in a tight circle. As she spun, she ripped her lightsaber into a reverse arc, and slashed at Lal from the opposite side.

Terror flooded Lal as she heard Bastila's lightsaber scream eagerly. Her muscles clenched, and snapped her lightsaber across to bounce against Bastila's with a bright flash. Bastila spun her blade in both hands and thrust forward towards Lal's chest. Lal pivoted to the outside of Bastila's thrust and batted her sister's attack up and to the left. Now standing slightly behind Bastila, Lal's heart hammered against her chest. Instinct urged her to drive the heel of her boot down into Bastila's knee. She would have done so in any other fight…

Bastila noted Lal's hesitation and unleashed a back-kick into Lal's belly. It hurled the older woman down onto her bottom. Lal flexed her legs against the deck of the landing platform and shoved her body backwards into a roll. As she did, Bastila surged forward in a liquid movement, sweeping low with her lightsaber to tear sparks from the deck in Lal's wake.

Lal came up on one knee as Bastila's blade crashed down atop hers. Lal unscrewed the hilt with a swift twist and stabbed underneath Bastila's guard with the second section of the hilt. She pummeled Bastila in the belly with the second hilt, driving her sister backward. She charged forward with a snarl, stabbing her blade in at Bastila's face. Bastila moved frantically backwards and planted her rear foot suddenly. She flexed and launched into a flip above Lal's head.

Lal's eyes narrowed and she spun around low beneath Bastila's leap. As Bastila landed, Lal's foot extended and slammed into the back of her knee. Bastila folded up with a gasp and fell onto her bottom. She wrenched her lightsaber up just in time as Lal crashed down atop her with her own lightsaber. Their weapons met with a shriek and a splash of bright light. Lal bared her teeth as she shoved down against Bastila's trembling muscles.

"Lal!" Bastila cried as their lightsabers hissed and gnashed inches from her face.

Bastila's voice injected a tiny spike of realization into Lal's thoughts. Terror again surged within her as she saw what she was about to do. She hurled herself away from Bastila and closed down her lightsaber. Bastila closed down her weapon and picked herself up.

"That was…unexpected," Bastila gasped, desperately fighting to control her breathing.

"I wasn't thinking, Basi! I'm sorry! I nearly…"

"No," Bastila sighed, forcing calm back into her voice. "I'm quite fine, Lal. You needn't worry."

"But I…I lost control…"

"So I noticed. Luckily, I did not…"

"I'm so sorry, Bastila…I got so angry…"

Concern wrinkled Bastila's smooth brow. She quested for her words, her feelings. "No, it wasn't anger I sensed in you, Lal. You were…quite serene…What were you thinking about, Lal?"

"I…I wasn't! I don't know…I was…"

"You were thinking you were in an actual battle…You let go of your conscious self," Bastila continued, wondering aloud, "and you tried your best to kill me…"

"I didn't mean to, Basi…"

Bastila frowned in thought and the two of them stood in the whipping silence of the wind. Lal could…_feel_ something boiling inside of Bastila. She would have called it nothing more than an intuition a week ago. But now, perhaps she _really_ could sense what Bastila was feeling. It felt no different than an intuition, of course. If this was what a Jedi could sense, it certainly didn't feel special to Lal.

But she _could_ feel the doubt and uncertainty welling up in Bastila. More than that, she seemed afraid. Afraid of Lal? Or afraid for her?

"I suppose it's my fault," Bastila finally said, noticing Lal's stare. "I shouldn't have pushed you as I did. I suppose I'm not actually qualified to instruct you on anything. I _am_ still merely a Padawan Learner, myself."

Lal decided not to mention Bastila's unease. "All these new terms…I suppose there will be a vocabulary test in the morning?"

Bastila smiled. "A Padawan is…a student. A…novice."

"You're hardly a novice, Bastila," Lal said, hooking her lightsaber reflexively upon her belt. "You're obviously important to the council. Why would they have trusted you on that mission to Taris otherwise?"

"I wasn't the only Jedi on board the Endar Spire, Lal. The others…they were killed when the ship was destroyed. Carth and I were the only survivors. No, I'm hardly experienced, and certainly not qualified to teach you what you need to know. It's simple arrogance to think otherwise."

"I'd rather it be you, Bastila…I'm…I'm comfortable…with you. I wouldn't want one of those…_Masters_ trying to teach me…and judging me with every look…"

"Lal, you _must_ trust in the judgment of the Council. Learning from me…well…it could be dangerous. For both of us."

"Because of the Dark Side, Basi? Listen…I want to know who and what I am. I…I don't feel as if there's anything else for me anymore…I must know. And you…you're my sister. If anyone knows who I am, you do. You _have_ to help me through this…"

Bastila frowned at Lal, indecision clouding her features. Lal, I cannot--"

"Basi, I--" Lal fell abruptly silent as a chill washed across her skin and sank into her body. She shivered as a cold prickle curdled the flesh at the base of her neck. She glanced sharply at Bastila; the younger woman stared away from her, gazing into the darkness spreading across the valley. "I just got a chill, standing up here…"

Bastila shook her head and squinted, her eyes struggling to pierce the descending folds of night. "It wasn't a chill, Lal. Look!"

Lal's eyes followed as Bastila's arm shot out to point across the valley to the opposite wall. She saw a flicker of movement along the top of the valley, grasses painted black shifting and whipping; thrust aside in the desperate passage of someone running full tilt. Lal could only capture the barest of glimpses of the person, every time he dashed in front of a still-bright patch of darkening sky.

"Someone…in…in…trouble…" Lal murmured. And as soon as she said that, a cold, trembling wail sliced across the grasslands, rising in pitch into a keening howl. Spit forth from the throats of a pack of predators, Lal imagined, though in all her days on Taris, she had never heard such a haunting cry. She could hear the howling spread out like a fluttering cloak, ringing across the plains beyond her vale, closing in. Whatever those creatures were, they were literally herding the runner to the edge of the valley.

"It's Belaya!" Bastila exclaimed. "Come on, Lal, we've got to help her!"

Minutes later, their sleek Aratech tore across the floor of the valley towards the gentle rise that led in and out of the canyon. They had to swing around to the right in a long, wide arc to reach Belaya's position. Lal leaned on the throttle, tearing it wide open as the sounds of baying and howling grew near. She could see flashes of light splashing through the cold gloom; Belaya must have been using her lightsaber. Beside Lal, Bastila crouched upon the passenger seat, gathering her legs beneath her body. She clutched her lightsaber in one hand and held onto the dashboard with the other.

Lal sliced the Aratech speeder along the edge of the valley wall, vectoring in towards the source of the flashes. She could hear the muted hum of a lightsaber, and could see a silhouette flickering at the heart of the explosions of light. Suddenly, something slammed into the left side of the speeder, jarring the entire vehicle. Lal glanced around in shock and saw a massive, dark form slide away behind them.

"What the hell was that?" Lal cried out, struggling to maintain her course beneath the force of the impact.

"Kath hounds!" Bastila pointed, aiming Lal's gaze towards a pack of huge canine bodies dashing around Belaya. The creatures issued sharp barks and snarls from their barrel chests and blunted snapping muzzles. Thick, gnarled fur bristled from their powerful necks, spreading in dark brown clumps across their humped shoulders. Some of the creatures bore white coats along their narrow flanks and hindquarters. They swarmed around Belaya, driving her back against the ledge of the valley. "Drive right into their midst, Lal!"

"Not a problem, Basi!" Lal replied. As they drew near, several of the hounds turned slavering snarls upon them and Lal's blood ran cold when she saw their eyes; like distant red lights flickering through a dank fog on some nightmare moor. She was certain there was nothing natural about these beasts when she saw those hellish eyes blazing furiously at her, eager to drive fangs deep into her muscles, to rip and tear…

Lal slammed back on the right control stick and jammed the air brakes to whip the speeder around in a flat spin. She aimed the massive thrusters at the rear of the Aratech towards the bulk of the swarming pack, and felt a trill of satisfaction when she heard the hounds screaming and yipping beneath the blistering heat. Her spin carved a ribbon out of the pack, and the thrusters hurled half a dozen of the baying beasts away like dolls.

Lal caught a ragged bloodied glimpse of Belaya, desperately swinging her lightsaber at anything that moved. The woman's eyes were wide saucers, and she grunted and gasped in the wild desperation of survival. "Get in!" Lal screamed at Belaya. Beside her, Bastila snapped on her lightsaber with a hiss and slashed at several kath hounds that charged the speeder.

Belaya glanced at Lal with wild, unreasoning eyes, but did not hesitate to hurl her torn, bleeding body head-first into the passenger compartment behind Lal and Bastila. A snapping muzzle dashed in behind Belaya, tearing at her legs and spraying Lal's neck with hot spittle. Belaya screamed as fangs ripped through her boot and into her leg.

The kath hound latched its powerful claws onto the top of the speeder and hauled its body upwards to lash at Belaya once more. Lal could feel the pressing heat of its body looming upwards behind her. She jerked the control sharply and shoved the throttle open. The speeder spun wildly beneath her as she tried to shake the snapping, growling beast.

"Lal!" Bastila cried.

"I know!"

"Behind you!"

"_I know_!" Lal slid the speeder to the left and spun right, aiming the nose over the side of the valley wall. "Hold on to something," she warned, clenching her teeth.

And then the speeder roared over the edge.

The sudden downward snap of the speeder as it fell hurled the kath hound into the air. That was one problem solved, at least…

Beside her, Bastila gripped onto the seat with white knuckles. She swallowed as the ground loomed upwards at them. "Lal, have you considered gravity in this plan of yours?"

Lal suppressed a wild grin and struggled with the repulsorlifts controls to keep a bed of gravitons beneath the speeder's nose. She tuned the repulsor gain up as high as she could, and felt the nose swinging upwards. "Relax!" she cried out with a whoop. "This is what _I _do best, Basi!"

The bottom of the speeder slapped against the floor of the valley and bounced back up into the air as the graviton field pushed off from the ground. The tail of the speeder waggled defiantly, but Lal wrenched their course back into a straight line. But red lights blazed across her displays and the manifold display spun wildly.

"Drat…" Lal hissed. She glanced over her shoulder at a cloud of white smoke pouring from one of the thrusters. She could see from the read-outs that the speeder was losing fuel pressure, and power was bleeding from the thrusters. She supposed they could limp back to the Jedi Enclave, but didn't want to get caught out in the open if the speeder decided to stop on them. And then, she saw how badly Belaya was bleeding all over the back seat.

"She needs patching up," Bastila cried, mirroring Lal's own thoughts.

Lal simply nodded and aimed the stumbling speeder towards her house. The Aratech ground to a sputtering, smoking halt in front of the steps and Lal leaped out. Together, she and Bastila hauled Belaya's limp body up the stairs and inside.

"House, secure all doors and windows," Lal ordered without thinking. Locks and security panels hissed into place all throughout the dwelling, sealing them safely within. But, through the walls, they could hear the baying of the hounds drifting near.

"She's bleeding badly," Bastila grunted, hefting the barely conscious Belaya towards the couch.

"C-came out of n-nowhere," Belaya moaned weakly.

"Medkit?" Lal asked Bastila.

"In the fresher. I'll try to stabilize her…"

Lal dashed down the hall and found the fresher…with the lights still one…immediately to her left. She dove into the closet and came up with a large emergency medical kit. She hustled it back to the living room and laid it down beside Belaya. Most of her cuts and gashes looked largely superficial, but Lal saw a few strategically inflicted, deep lacerations; the kath hounds knew where to strike to bring down prey, and that knowledge seemed to extend to human physiology, as well…

Lal tore open a pressure bandage and pressed it tightly against a long tear in Belaya's thigh. Blood pumped out against the bandage, and Lal could feel the throb of Belaya's pulse beneath her hand. The bandage self-sealed against the wound, slathering it with Kolto. "She needs to stay awake, Basi," Lal said, draw a stimulant Syrette from the kit. She slapped it against Belaya's throat, and it pumped a small dose into her body. Belaya's eyes snapped wide open against the shock that was already knotting her belly up and tugging her down into unconsciousness.

"Unnatural!" Belaya hissed, gripping the collar of Lal's tunic. Lal ignored the woman while Bastila gripped the sides of Belaya's face. Her eyes were closed and her body was stiff in concentration. As Bastila did…whatever she was doing, Lal began cleaning and dressing Belaya's other wounds.

Belaya then coughed up a spray of blood, and Lal knew something inside her was torn or broken or both. "Damn," she hissed, knowing there was nothing she could do.

Bastila gasped and fell back from Belaya. She glanced helplessly at Lal. "I…I don't have…I don't think I can help her, Lal! It's beyond me!" she moaned.

Lal nodded grimly. "Alright, Bastila. We're going to have to get her to the Enclave, then." But even as she spoke, she knew Belaya didn't have the time. Even at full speed, it would take at least thirty minutes to get back to the Jedi compound. Belaya didn't have another twenty minutes left in her body. Still, there was no other choice. "Let's get her back to the speeder…"

"Lal, no!" Bastila hissed, grabbing her sister's arm. "She won't make it…You…_you_ have to save her…"

"Excuse me? I can't…what are you talking about?"

"Lal, it is within a Jedi's power to sustain a lifeforce with her own…I know how to do it, but Belaya's injuries are…are beyond me…"

Lal frowned and simply stared at Bastila. She wasn't entirely sure she understood what Bastila was telling her.

"Lal, a Jedi is not just a warrior, but also a healer! Before you learn how to take life…you must know how to save it! Listen, I _know_ you do not remember! But your skills are…are far greater than my own, Lal! You are her only chance!"

"Bastila, I don't know what to do! I…How do I make it work?"

Bastila yanked Lal down before Belaya and placed Lal's hands against the dying Jedi's cheeks. "Do not let go, Lal…Now…close your eyes…release your conscious self…Open your feelings and stretch out with them. Feel the throbbing of her heart, to pulse of her breathing…"

Lal closed her eyes as she gripped the sides of Belaya's face. She steadied her breathing, ordering each inhale and exhale, forcing them to climb steps carved from her thoughts. Tiny sparks of light fired behind Lal's eyelids, shooting liquid patterns across her darkened sight. She felt her heartbeat hammering away in her throat and tried to still that ceaseless pounding as well. As she breathed deeply, in and out, she felt her heart calm its raging. The beating slowed to a steady throb and Lal felt her sense of balance slipping. Her body swayed, like a ship tossed on white-capped waves, and a hollow chill filled her belly, as if she was falling.

She became aware, by a matter of thumping degrees of her steady heartbeat, echoing in her ears…accompanied…by a _second_ beating! Slower…weaker…Lal gradually realized what it was she was hearing; Belaya's own dying heart, clenching and shuddering as her life oozed out of her wounds…

Lal gasped and nearly leaped away, But Bastila cried out somewhere in her mind: "No! This is what you are, Lal!"

Lal swallowed her fear and pressed onward, seeking out that weak heartbeat with her thoughts. She could almost see it…a pulsing red glow against her eyelids, flashing weakly in the darkness. In her ears, she felt a wet thrushing, as of a stream rushing within its channel. Nausea churned up from her intestines, burning the lower edges of her throat. She could feel herself spinning, the room around her whirling madly, and the inertia of her spin pressed against her eyes like fists.

The pulsing heartbeat pressed its rhythm against her own, matching it, mirroring it. She felt her own heart clamp down against Belaya's, and ice crystallized the inside of her skin. She released a tiny moan as the air scraped along her brittle flesh, and the sickness raging in her belly fought its way up into her mouth. There, it evaporated, parching her tongue utterly dry. As the nausea disintegrated inside her, the spinning stopped abruptly.

And she fell; fell into her own skin as sharply as if she'd struck a wall.

She opened her eyes and saw Belaya's eyelids fluttering. The woman looked up weakly at Lal and murmured something beneath her breath. Lal nearly collapsed atop her as her muscles turned to water. But Bastila gripped her tightly, holding her up.

Lal glanced around suddenly, to make sure the room had stopped spinning, she stared down at her arms expecting to see cracked flesh, but saw only smooth unbroken skin. "Wh-what happened?" Lal gasped, her tongue scraping the roof of her mouth like sandpaper.

"You did it, Lal," Bastila whispered in breathless shock. "You did it! Her bleeding has stopped…Look!"

Lal's eyes rolled weakly downward; the blood running freely from Belaya's terrible wounds had ceased; A pinkness tinged Belaya's pale brow and ashen cheeks. Lal staggered heavily against Bastila and fought to regain her balance. She pressed a hand to her forehead and found it drenched with cool sweat.

"I…I can't believe it," Lal croaked as Bastila guided her to a seat.

"You don't have to, sister," Bastila whispered, smoothing Lal's hair back from her face. "You don't have to."

Lal awoke some time later, without having known she was asleep. She sat up with a start, hearing a distant, crooning howl as it sliced through the walls of her house. Bastila stood at a window peering outside through a narrow slit in the security panel. She clutched her lightsaber in her fist; her body tensed like a coiled spring. Belaya sat on the couch, her battered body covered more in bandages than her shredded, bloody robes. She propped her arm weakly against the armrest, and clutched her own lightsaber in a white-knuckled grip. Her heavily hooded eyes flickered towards Lal every so often, and Lal could feel fear and uncertainty spraying from the woman's mind.

"What's happening?" Lal asked, pushing herself up from the chair she'd collapsed in.

Bastila glanced over at her. "Kath Hounds," she said in a chill whisper. "They're all around the house…just…waiting…"

Lal staggered over to her sister and peered out into the night. It took her eyes a moment to adjust, but she could see them; the dark bodies prowling on powerful legs, muscles flexing anxiously beneath ragged coats. They seemed to stare right back at Lal with eyes like hot coals.

"This is…unnatural," Bastila hissed. "Kath hounds do not behave in this fashion…"

Lal felt a chill trundle along her arms and spine and she hugged herself tightly.

"Can you feel it?" Belaya whispered hoarsely. "The Dark Side…"

Bastila turned to look at Belaya. "Yes, I feel it, Belaya. But you must try and remain calm. We are quite safe here, I assure you…"

"We're not safe, Bastila," Belaya cried frantically, her eyes bulging wildly. "No one is safe!"

Bastila went to Belaya's side to calm the woman down, but Lal noticed something beyond the window. It seemed, at first nothing more than a wisp of darkness; a flutter of grass in the night wind. But Lal's eyes focused, and she could almost feel the night being lifted before her eyes like a veil. It remained dark…but things seemed to catch light easier. A glint of moonlight turned into a glare, spilling illuminance over the shifting, pacing bodies of kath hounds. A dim reflection became a torchlight, bathing the whipping grasses in a splash of brightness. Lal searched the night with her new eyes, greedily drinking up the details she tore from the shadows.

But her gaze rested uncomfortably on a darkened rustle she could not penetrate. She imagined more than saw a tall figure composed of billowing darkness; a crooked shape shrouded in rags and tatters the same color as the night sky. Lal squinted at the shape and tried to determine if she was really seeing something there…or if her mind was playing tricks.

Then, the figure turned a pair of slitted red eyes on her, staring back at Lal. Lal released a gasp. As she watched, kath hounds swarmed around the figure like a loyal pack of trained dogs. The figure then turned and drifted away, melting back into the surrounding shadow. With a collective howl, the kath hounds dashed off, blazing wild trails through the grass.

Lal leaned back from the window, and felt the chill dissipate. Warmth again suffused her muscles and bones. She had to remind herself to breathe…

She whipped her head towards Bastila and Belaya, and saw both women blanched and pale; Belaya trembled in Bastila's arms.

"You felt it…" Belaya murmured in a tiny voice, "didn't you?"

Lal looked at Bastila for some explanation, but Bastila's face held no answers. Bastila's eyes were side with fear. Lal needed no so-called Jedi senses to tell her that; she felt it as well…

The next morning when they arrived back at the Jedi Enclave, Lal could have almost bathed in the sunlight. Never had she hungered so much for warmth and sunshine as she had during that long night. The soothing fire of the morning sun seemed to wash away the fear that still prickled the skin on her arms and legs. Perhaps it was the purity of the day; the first light to blaze across the world's breast. It was the first light to touch the ground after night had released its cold rictus grasp.

Maybe Lal was just imagining it. She would never have had such…sentimental thoughts on Taris. But then again, she had never known such unreasoning frantic fear on Taris. Even while trudging through the wet darkness of Undercity. Terror had been all too tangible on Taris. Too commonplace. Fear had never scared her as it had last night. And as a result, the grasslands lounging in the morning looked newly sketched, and the distant plateaus and columns of white stone seemed newly sculpted. Unspoiled.

She felt new.

Bastila and Belaya immediately went to request a meeting with the Council. Lal was left to wait for their summons. But she didn't feel like waiting. Instead, she made her way to the plaza where the _Ebon Hawk_ was moored. She heard Zaalbar's trembling growl, and saw AyVee dashing madly into the air for safety from the Wookiee's long sweeping arms. She heard Mission complaining about the two of them and smiled. Mission was watching AyVee buzz around with her hands on her hips. Surprisingly, the young Twi'lek wore a blaster on her hip…Lal's blaster.

"I told you Wookiees _don't_ like having their teeth brushed!"

AyVee whistled shrilly down at them while Zaalbar strained to grab the little droid. Mission just shook her head and said, "I don't _care_ if they're asleep! They still don't like it!"

Zaalbar took the opportunity to snarl again and spit out a mouthful of foam. Lal covered her mouth in disbelief and stifled a laugh. He howled indignantly about the taste of toothpaste and the honor of a Wookiee and leaped furiously after the droid.

Carth came down the ramp and squinted after Mission, Zaalbar and AyVee. He had a toothbrush jammed into his mouth, and wore a confused scowl. "What the hell is all that ruckus?" he mumbled sleepily.

"Now you've done it!" Mission sighed. "You woke Carth up and he's all…grumpy…"

"I swear this is like a traveling sideshow," Carth growled, shaking his head. He was about to head back onto the _Ebon Hawk_ when he caught sight of the blaster on Mission's hip. "Mission…why the hell are you wearing a blaster?"

Mission dragged over to stand before him and rocked from one heel to the other. "Um…me and Zaalbar were just…he was teaching me how to shoot is all, and…"

"And you just decided that this was a good idea in the middle of the Jedi Enclave? Take it off."

Mission stuck her tongue out at him. "Oooh, I love it when you talk _dirty_ like that, Carth…"

"Mission…do I look like I'm in the mood? Now put it back where you got it."

"Alright, alright!" Mission cried, stomping up the ramp. "Good thing you didn't _overreact_ or anything…"

Zaalbar forgot his hatred of AyVee and shuffled his feet guiltily beneath Carth's withering glare. "You're encouraging her," Carth accused. "You know that, right?"

In reply, Zaalbar barked that he had no idea what Carth was talking about. The Wookiee immediately thundered up the ramp after Mission. Carth stood there for a moment, absently brushing his teeth. Lal watched him for a bit, her eyes tracing the battered slabs of muscle standing out starkly beneath the tee-shirt he wore. A morning stubble darkened his sharply carved jowls and his hair stood in spiked disarray, inviting her fingers to run through…

She sighed and stepped into his line of sight. His surprise gusted out from him and bathed her senses. There was also the shrill tinge of anger, prickling the edge of her thoughts. For a moment, she almost forgot that she was standing there; she was so amazed that she could sense his emotions. He saw her then, and a wall suddenly slammed down over his thoughts. She felt it as keenly as a door slamming in her face.

"Well, imagine that," he said, placing his fists on his hips as she slowly approached. "I was just thinking about you."

"Pleasant thoughts, I trust?" she said hopefully, clasping her hands behind her.

His eyes coursed up and down her frame and he frowned. "Look like you been through hell, Lal…"

She had changed out of her blood-soaked skirt earlier in the morning, but she hadn't slept more than an hour. Normally, she wouldn't have cared, but she was suddenly certain her hair was a mess…

"I had a rough night," she decided to say, unsure exactly what he would and would not believe.

He waited for more, but she couldn't form any other words at that exact moment. He snorted in disgust and glanced away.

"Carth…what's wrong? Why are you so…upset?"

"Upset? Is that what I am? Upset? Nah. This isn't upset, Lal. I'm perfectly fine. I have absolutely no problem _whatsoever_ with being ignored and kept out of the loop. No, I'm not upset at all, Lal."

"Carth…why are you yelling at me?"

"You take off without any hint of where you're going…you and Bastila both! I try to get answers from these Jedi, but I swear…"

"Carth," she said softly, moving close to him and laying a hand on his chest, "calm down. I went to spend the day with my sister. It was no great secret or anything. We weren't trying to _keep you out of the loop_. I…the Jedi probably didn't tell you anything because they didn't know. I…I don't know what else to say, Carth…I mean, I'm sorry…I didn't intend it as an insult to you. I…I thought you told me not to bother you anymore…"

Carth's eyes narrowed at her as she spoke. "Lal, this is serious."

"And what you said to me wasn't?"

"Lal…what I said to you…Don't play dumb with me, okay? I'm not in the mood."

"Well, neither am I, Carth!" she snapped, without meaning to. She sighed and closed her eyes, forcing herself to remain calm. "I…I had a very…rare night. I learned I have parents that I'm not bloody allowed to even see…A woman nearly bled to death in my arms…we spent the night barricaded in my house against…I don't even know what they were…"

Carth stared at her for a moment longer, trying to read her face. She felt him make an active decision to put aside his anger; felt him lock it tightly away. His face softened and he released a sigh. "Alright. I'm sorry for yelling at you, Lal. It's not your fault, I reckon…It's just…well, I received word from Command yesterday. Seems they want me to wait for further orders. I'm sure the Jedi have something to do with this…But I'm not doing anyone any damn good just sitting here and cooling my heels…"

"I'm afraid I know about as much as you do, Carth," she told him, brushing her fingertips down the hardened surface of his arm. "But…I _am_ rather glad you're here…"

"Lal…"

"No, let me speak…I…what I've learned, Carth…I wish I could…put it into words! I don't know what's going to happen to me…but being away from Taris…being…_here_…I feel so strange. I have a sister, Carth! I'm…happy…and afraid…all at the same time…"

He arched an eyebrow at her and released a crooked smile. "Alright, what have you done with Lal, imposter?"

Lal closed her eyes and smiled. "Very funny, Carth. But I'm being serious."

"Serious? Well, that's different then. I don't know what to tell you, Lal. This entire business is…well, it's a little out of my experience. Anytime Jedi are involved in something, you can bet it's gonna be…strange. My life has been pretty strange ever since I met you."

She squinted up at him, the sun spilling past his shoulder into her eyes. "Is that an entirely bad thing, Carth?"

"It hasn't exactly been fun, Lal…"

"No," she admitted with a sigh, "it hasn't been. I…" she closed her mouth and shook her head.

Carth stood in front of her in silence for a long moment, searching her eyes. She lifted her chin to return his gaze as openly as she could manage. Again, she could feel his thoughts surging freely from him. The wall had tumbled down. His fear strained and tugged away from her; his anger jabbed lightly; and his desire warmed her, even though he hid it beneath the cloud of his thoughts.

Lal smiled and lifted a hand to brush his hair from his brow. The movement tugged her against his chest, and she felt very much like crushing herself into his arms. She resisted the urge for some reason; she wasn't entirely sure why. She knew he wanted her. But perhaps the desire he felt for her was the simple idiot desire that all men felt for women. She knew that animal lust well. It meant nothing to her; nothing to them. It was just chemical. She wondered if that was the only lure she held over him, or if there was some depth to that longing. She had never been known to inspire such depth or complexity. No. She was a master of coaxing forth dull-witted lust. But something, _anything_ more…that was beyond her abilities.

Feeling suddenly foolish, she stepped back from him and glanced down at the toes of her boots. Confusion drifted forth from his mind, but he gave no voice to it.

Instead, he sighed and ran a hand through his wooly hair. "So, when are you leaving, Lal?"

"Leaving?"

"To get on with your business. Dantooine is still just a pit stop for you after all."

"I…I don't know," she muttered, feeling even more foolish. "Business…business will keep for a bit, I should think."

"Now I _know_ you can't be the real Lal."

"Carth, why are you giving me such a hard time about this?"

"Payback," he chuckled. "I seem to remember a certain lady giving me the business a short while back…"

"That's because I…well. It certainly seems a long while ago, doesn't it?"

"Not to me."

"I should think it would be obvious that things have changed from what they were when we first met, Carth."

"If that means you're no longer a mercenary," he said, "I'm all for it. If it just means you're killing time…"

"I don't know exactly _what_ it means, Carth," she said, feeling heat rise in her voice. "And to be fully honest, I think I'm rather tired of you judging me based upon three years of my life. And might I add, you've only seen into a tiny window of those three years. I'm truly sorry about your family, Carth; about all that you've lost…I really am. But I'm not to blame for it, Carth. And whatever I was on Taris…whatever I did on Taris, had nothing whatsoever to do with…with what you've had to suffer. I'm sorry I treated you so badly, but I also helped you! Perhaps I had my own reasons for it, but when it came down to it, I stood with you. Not against you."

Carth sighed heavily and nodded. "Alright. Maybe you're, uh, you're right. Maybe I haven't been exactly…fair to you…But I am grateful, Lal."

"And I'm grateful to you for saving my life at Davik's estate," she told him. "Perhaps…I was thinking about something: maybe we could pretend…no. That's not what I…maybe we could…do you think we could just sort of…start over?"

"Start over," he repeated. "You mean from when you walked in here this morning? Or like…start _over_ over?"

She couldn't help but smile at him. "_Over _over. _From the beginning_ over…"

"I suppose that's possible."

"Well, let me get one more thing out of the way before we do."

"Uh…okay…"

She reached around and turned his chin towards her. She stood up on her toes and pressed her lips to his. At first, he nearly leaped back in surprise. But then, his mouth softened against hers and his hands slid around her back. She pressed her hands against his shoulders and leaned into his body. When their lips parted, she sighed and brushed his cheek with her own. She rested in his arms for a long moment and turned a grin up to him.

"I always keep the promises I make, Carth," she murmured against his chest.

"Uhm-hmm…I'm glad…By the way, the name's Carth. Carth Onasi…"

"Mmm. Lal."

"Pleased to meet you, Lal."

"_Lal_!" Bastila called out, stepping into the plaza. "The Council is meeting. They wish to speak with you."

Lal sighed and glanced up into Carth's eyes. "Pleased to be met, Mr. Onasi." She grinned at him and tugged free of his arms to join Bastila.

"It's actually 'Captain Onasi'…"

"Oh…come on, Lal," Bastila groaned. "You're bloody incorrigible…"


	14. Chapter 11

11: Shadows on the Wind

The twin suns of Tatooine blazed like diamonds trapped in a pool of lava as they rose high into the white sky. Jun Ando lifted his sandgoggles to mop the sweat from his brow and glanced around the loading dock with a weary sigh. It had been more than a week now with no word from his employer. If things went on much longer like this, they'd begin losing contracts. After word had reached them of Taris' destruction, several pilots had already deserted. Suppliers and buyers were losing confidence.

Word had it, Lal Sideen was dead.

Jun replaced his goggles and barked out an order to the crew of loading droids that had just hauled the cargo from the swollen belly of a Corellian Trade Skimmer, recently docked after a run through the Hutt territories. Jun knew the captain, a dusty-little bush pilot barely out of her teens, but with more stick time than half the space rats in port. An Feeda was a willowy Zabrak with barely a full crest of horns on her skull, sporting a brace of clan tattoos on her right cheek. She wasn't much more than a whip, but the girl was utterly fearless, like Lal herself. Jun supposed that was one reason Lal had contracted her and her ship. She was one of the few pilots still loyal. Maybe she hadn't heard about Taris, but it was more likely the girl simply didn't give a womp-rat's ass. Like most of these Outer Rim lifers, An was crazy.

Jun reckoned he fell right into company beside the girl. Still, he was getting paid for his time. As long as he made sure the shipments came through, funds were electronically transferred into his accounts on Munillist. He knew it was largely an automatic process, designed to hide the transactions from Kang, and just because he was still getting paid didn't mean Lal was alive.

Jun just didn't know what to think anymore. He walked over to a wall control pad and pushed the button that would extend the roof over the pit where the landing bay huddled. He watched it slowly spread across the bay, blocking of the glare of the suns, reflected a thousand fold by all the salt particles floating in the sky. An had gone on to the local cantina, likely to get drunk and bet her newfound creds on the Swoops. Probably a good idea.

Maybe Jun would run into Tuha there…try and get back into her bed tonight. Yeah, that was a good idea.

After making his way across the settlement, stepped into the dank moist shadows of the cantina. Didn't see An or Tuha, or anyone he knew. Just a bunch of Czerka corp salary-boys tossing back purple fizzes almost as if they were actual drinks. Jun sneered in disgust and almost decided to leave. Nobody had much love for Czerka; the galactic mega-corporation had set up shop some fifty years back, after some ridiculously premature subsurface surveys. They'd pushed out all the mom-and-pop mining operations that had claims here decades before Czerka's CEO had even learned how to wipe his snotty nose. Most of those old claims were as dry as the salt flats in the Dune Sea now. It was hard to stay in a place like Anchorhead or the outlying stakes without a foot to stand on. Many folks had left nigh twenty years ago. The diehards that stayed had turned to moisture farming…or other pursuits.

One couldn't spit into the wind without hitting either a smuggler, a pirate, a hooker or worse, a company rep. Not in Anchorhead. Most honest folk only came into the settlement for trade. Only real thing of any value on Tatooine was water. Oh the Czerka dung-wigglers tried to flood the economy with their all but useless corporate scrip, and their local vendors shortchanged you when you used standard cred. But it was getting to the point where the few cred clinking about in a man's pockets was hardly worth the water pumping through his body.

There was cred to be _had_ on the Tat; it just wasn't a good place to _spend_ it. Unless you wanted to buy a lot of stock in getting pissed. Jun eased up to the bar to make an investment.

"A bottle of Yellow Bottom," he grunted at the bartender. The man shoved a clear bottle of the sour malt at him and went off to adjust the flickering hologram of a half-naked Twi'lek dancer, writhing in a broken loop a meter above the bar. Jun took a swig of the Yellow Bottom, convincing himself for the thousandth time that the color of the stuff _didn't_ make him think of bantha urine. It burned its way down with an oddly antiseptic hiss that tended to grow on a person. Then the hiss turned into a frothy rumble halfway down his throat.

"Ah," he gasped, "that's good Yellow…"

"Then you'd better enjoy it," a gravelly voice grated behind him. Jun's hand instinctively fell to his blaster as he took another swig. "Because it's gonna be your last one."

Jun's body tensed to whirl and draw his weapon, but a heavy weight blasted into the base of his skull. He staggered forward into the bar and the Yellow slipped from his fingers to explode in a wet crash upon the floor. Jun felt himself falling; his hands hit the ground, skin bursting where glass shards jabbed into him. Darkness swept over him, and he wondered if he was getting paid enough for this…

"You know the one good thing about this salt-cake of a dust-hole planet you got here, Jun?" a voice hissed. "Hmm? No local constabulary. Oh yeah, Czerka pays some of their silky-boys to put on a cap and shine a flashlight into the corners and alleys at night, but those girls don't want any trouble. Not in a town where everybody carries a gun."

Jun shook his throbbing head and tried to stand, but his arms and legs were bound. He blinked his eyes to clear the fog and saw that he was inside the cargo hold of a ship. Small one from the looks of it. Couldn't tell the make.

"That witch has certainly done pretty nice for herself here. I gotta admit, I'm surprised. Yeah. Who would'a thought that Lal Sideen would have the sack to set up an operation behind Davik's back? Not that I care, mind you. Davik Kang was a stupid bastard and personally, I'm glad he's dead."

Jun propped himself up against a bulkhead and squinted in the dull-edged glow to see a powerfully built, squat man in a long coat the color of sand at midday. A pair of goggles rested over a sharp nose and a cruel sneering wrinkle of a mouth. Damn.

"Alright. Might as well get to it. "You know who I am, Jun Ando."

Jun nodded, a grimace of pain and fear twisting his wind-worn features.

"Say it! Say my name!"

Jun's lips twisted as he spat the words out. "Calo Nord."

"You got that right, dust-kicker. Now, I don't have a lotta time to spare cuttin' on you and all that. So we're gonna try something new for me. You tell me what I want to know, and I let you walk out of here."

Jun's mind suddenly raced with thoughts, putting the puzzle pieces together swiftly.

"Now, hold on a sec," Nord went on. "You ain't the brightest bulb in the pack, but you're still smart enough to figure that I'm here on account of Lal Sideen. You're probably thinking that she escaped from Taris. That she's alive. Well, don't hold out your hopes too long or too far. I want you to understand, she might still be walkin' around, but that is one dead woman. Her life ain't worth the effort it takes you to spit dust on this dust-hole. Because I'm after her. Since you know who I am, you know that I'm a man of my word when it comes to killin'."

"How about you just get on with it, _bounty hunter_."

Calo nodded and took a step towards Jun. "How 'bout I do that. I been watching this little operation for a few days now. Learning the ins and outs. Actually wasn't easy to find it, but it wasn't that hard either. Not once I realized that Lal would be the sort to feather a nest. I remembered when we came out to this crap-hole last time, with Davik. She was real interested in the smuggling operation. And so, here I am, learning just how clever that witch is. You wanna be clever too, Jun. But not too clever, understand? Just clever enough to walk out of here with your life. So, where is she?"

Jun lowered his eyes and swallowed a deep breath that had the salty tinge of blood in it. "I don't know what you wanna know…d-do your worst…"

Calo's gloved fist slammed into Jun's jaw, buffeting his skull. Blood flew from Jun's mouth and he fell to the floor, face first.

"That was very clumsy of you," Calo sighed. "The floor is quite slippery." He used his boot to turn Jun over on his back. "I reckon you didn't hear me as you were slipping. "Where is Lal Sideen?"

Jun spit out a wad of blood along with a tooth and shook his head. "This ain't the first time somebody threw me a beatin', you psycho half-pint son of a hutt."

Calo stomped down hard on Jun's chest and Jun cried out in pain. He tried to curl into a ball, but Calo ground his foot into Jun's throat, pinning him to the deck. "Y'know, I bet you're pretty accident prone, aren't you? You should be more careful."

Jun coughed and wheezed beneath Calo's boot, struggling to get free.

"Did you say something?" Calo asked casually. "Speak up."

"I…s-said…I-I d-don't…know where sh-she…"

Calo kicked Jun in his ribs, and Jun felt a sharp crack in his chest. He gasped and squeezed his eyes shut, whimpering wetly deep in his throat. Calo bent down to haul him up to his feet, and patted Jun on the shoulder. "Alright. It's alright now." Savagely, he yanked Jun forward and lifted his knee into Jun's belly. The Calo spun around and hammered his elbow against the back of Jun's skull.

Jun collapsed to his knees and vomited, doubling over. Calo kicked him onto the deck, on his side. "Must have eaten something that you didn't agree with. Once more. Where is she?"

"C-crazy b-b-bastard…if I knew, I-I…would have t-told…"

Calo snapped back a fist to slam it down into Jun's temple, but stopped. Calo sighed and crouched down over Jun's gasping, trembling body. "Y'know, I think I believe you. You're a clumsy half-witted dust-kicking flatscan, but maybe you've got some sense. You honestly don't have a clue." Calo pulled his knife from the rear of his belt and held it before Jun's wide eyes.

And chuckled.

"I'm a man of my word," he reminded Jun, and sliced the cord around his ankles. He put the knife away, after kissing it, and smiled at Jun; a nasty slash of a smile, with teeth bared. He hauled Jun back up to his feet and patted his cheek. "Your hands remain tied, of course. For my safety. Can you walk? Can you?"

Jun nodded weakly, cringing away from the bounty hunter.

"Good, good. See? I'm not so bad. Now then…where would I go if I was a hutt-slime of a whore on the run…? Maybe…maybe that Jedi is the key…maybe I should be looking for the Jedi instead…"

"Jedi?" Jun coughed.

Calo turned to him and frowned. "Just thinking out loud, dust-kicker," and he drew his blaster and fired point blank at Jun's face. Calo watched the corpse fall to the deck and he sighed, staring critically at the mess he'd made. He held his blaster up and adjusted the gain on the emitter. Then he holstered his weapon and headed out of the cargo hold to the tiny cockpit of his ship.

He crawled into the pilot's seat and reached down to flick on the computer. He cycled to the navigational directory and ran a search on planets used by the Jedi. He had heard something about the Council spreading its members across nearly a dozen worlds, ever since Malak had hit Coruscant a while back. "Coruscant's too visible," he muttered, looking at the list of worlds that popped up. "Same with Alderaan…They'd want some place out of the way…" He called up another planet on the display screen and jabbed at it with his finger. Aha. That's where you went, isn't it? You cowardly little whore…Dantooine…"

"So it would seem you've decided to wear a lightsaber," Master Vrook commented, piercing Lal with a cold glare. Lal's hand reflexively brushed across the lightsaber hanging from her belt. Vrook turned his bitter stare upon Bastila. "Tell me, Padawan; did you consult anyone before you took it upon yourself to put such a dangerous weapon into your sister's hands? I wonder that your feelings are entirely clear on this matter…"

Master Vandar shook his head, causing his long ears to wiggle. He cleared his throat with a grunt and cast a sidelong glance up at Vrook. "Other matters there are to concern us this day, I think, Master Vrook. Besides which, saved the life of Belaya, Lal did. Hmm? Hmm. Easier it is to destroy than it is to create. Great discipline it requires to do otherwise." The diminutive Jedi stepped forward and gazed up at Lal with measuring eyes. "Perhaps good it was the time spent between sisters, hmm? Lal, know do you the reason we are here?"

"I can only guess it had something to do with the events of last night. Before we speak of this, I must ask about Belaya. Is she…?"

"Belaya was gravely wounded," Master Zhar said. "We heard the full tale from Bastila earlier. But thanks to you, Lal, she will recover. This was…somewhat unexpected. At least, so soon, anyway. Because of your Jedi skills, such a thing is well within your abilities, of course. But we worried that this amnesia would sever you from those skills. Unfortunately, this leads into another problem we face.

"You see, Lal," he said, "Belaya was on a mission of utmost importance when you two rescued her. She petitioned the Council repeatedly to be entrusted with this mission, as it was…it was very dear to her."

"She should have been refused on that basis," Vrook growled. "Her emotional attachment led her to this eventuality. And her inexperience."

Lal shook her head, confused by their words. "I'm afraid I don't quite follow…"

"Eager was Belaya," Vandar explained, "perhaps too eager, to undertake this mission safely. Little choice did we have, though. Gone are many of our Jedi Knights, you see. Assigned to postings among the fleet have they been. Necessity."

"You see, Lal," Zhar went on, "for many weeks now, we have sensed a presence…a power…growing strong in the Dark Side. There is a grove, once sacred to the original inhabitants of this world long, long ago. We believe they knew the ways of the Force, but they predated the Jedi traditions by…by thousands of years. Though they are but dust and dreams now, their…presence still manifests in certain places. This grove has stood longer than the Jedi have existed, and always, it has been a place of tremendous power. But something has changed the grove, Lal. Corrupted it. One of the results of this corruption, as you discovered last night…the kath hounds have been…twisted by this energy.

"Kath hounds are normally quite fierce when provoked. But they rarely cross the paths of the few sentients who make Dantooine their home. They are like any other animal in that regard. But this…_taint_ has turned the kath hounds into…into monsters. Guided, it seems, by some malevolent will. Four times now, there have been reports of attacks on settlers. Each attack has been more savage than the last. Belaya asked to be entrusted with the task of stopping this."

Lal did recall that Belaya had seemed impatient when she met her yesterday. Regardless, she wasn't sure she liked where this was going. "I…I'm not sure I understand what you want me to do about this…I thought I was supposed to be a one-woman army against this Malak character. Now you want me to go and kill a bunch of…kath hounds?"

Zhar shook his head. "Your feelings serve you well, Lal. But that is not what is required; killing kath hounds would be like merely treating the symptoms of a disease. The cause of the disease must be addressed."

"Go you must to the Ancient Grove, Lal," Master Vandar said. "Unravel this mystery you will."

"You may consider it a…a test," Zhar added. "To determine if you are…strong enough to bear this burden we must place on your shoulders."

"A test," Lal repeated flatly. "No rest for the wicked, then, is there? It's rather a lot to dump into my lap all at once, don't you think?"

"Predictable," Vrook chuckled. "Insolence. A lack of proper respect. You only see yourself, not others. This is your weakness, Lal. Perhaps it served you well on Taris, but--"

"Excuse me," she cut in sharply. "You people reel me in here and off-handedly turn my entire world on its ear. You place some terrible…_duty_ on me after less than a day, and I'm supposed to just accept it blindly? Then, you tell me I'm suddenly subject to some bloody test? Forgive me if I don't eagerly strike out upon it."

"Hmph!" Vrook snorted in disgust glancing down at Vandar. "Perhaps it would change her mind if we offered a few credits…"

"It might!" Lal snapped angrily. "Listen…I don't know what I was like before I…before I lost my memory, but I doubt I was a fool. You have been treating me as such ever since I arrived. My feelings _do _serve me well, Master Zhar. Even on Taris, I've always been able to smell a muckrat. You people are hiding something. You're not telling me everything."

She folded her arms over her breasts and cocked her weight on her back leg, watching as the Jedi glanced back and forth among each other, digesting her words. "I'll do this task for you," she finally continued. "But 'test'? I think not. I'll do this for you, but when I do, I want to know everything. This is my life you're mucking about with, and as such, I deserve to know everything."

"Predictable," Vrook sighed. "Do not presume to dictate to the Council, young lady!"

"Lamar," Zhar said quietly to Vrook, "perhaps Lal is right. We are not deceiving you, Lal. But it is understandable why you might feel paranoid. This is all very new and strange to you. And terribly sudden. But here is the simple truth, Lal. The Republic is facing its greatest threat since the days of Exar Kun. The Sith have returned more powerful than ever could have been imagined. Their fleet is unstoppable. The source of their new power is…it remains a mystery to us. We don't have a great deal of time. That's why we are pushing you. We need you. It's that simple."

Lal thought back to Carth's words on the _Ebon Hawk_. He said much the same thing. And she figured it was only a matter of time before more worlds like Telos or Taris fell to them. She couldn't deny that. And perhaps Carth had been right. She just wanted to remember her life. But there were so many obstacles in her path. The Council was one of those obstacles. And it seemed, perhaps, so was Malak.

"Alright," she finally relented. "I'll help. I assume Bastila knows where this grove is? Let's get this done, then."

Bastila glanced nervously at her boots…

"Bastila will not be joining you, I'm afraid," Zhar said. "Bastila is the only one among us who possesses battle meditation, Lal. She is…too valuable to endanger. You must do this task without her help."

You're joking," Lal cried out. Then she thought better of her words. "No, of course you're not joking. Does this get any worse? Am I to do this alone, then?"

"I'm afraid we cannot send any other Jedi to assist you, Lal," Zhar said. "Most of the Padawans here at the Enclave are…too inexperienced. Unfortunately, Master Bolook and Master Nemo are involved in other duties. I'm sorry, Lal. Please try to understand. We have spoken to Bastila at length about you, today. Based on her recommendation, we feel this task is within your abilities to complete."

Lal sighed heavily and nodded. "Alright, then. I'll do what you need me to do."

"Ah chutta," the Twi'lek merchant smiled at Lal as she walked into the surplus store. "Bo Crattis Yurkaloia; Ting-neboong cha, ni dah!"

Lal nodded politely to him as she glanced over the stacks of battered metal crates and shelves of weaponry. She noticed several droids in the back, going through inventory lists, and a younger Twi'lek perched over a work table, using a microwelder on a broken down motivator assembly.

"Jedda bodda wanna needa boddo?" Crattis Yurkal asked her.

"Actually, I'm looking for a decent Slipsuit," she replied. "You sell military surplus here?"

He nodded and moved towards a stake of crates, gesturing for her to follow. "Meeli wo rong chee." He hauled down one of the crates from the stack and popped it open on the floor. Inside rested a dozen jiggling spheres of black jelly, with metal studs lodged within them. Crattis knelt down and ran his green fingers over the studs in each of the jellied balls. He then looked up at Lal, examining her size and shape. "Er…eh…heh…ning chop-pekto…heh," he began nervously.

Lal chuckled and shook her head. "No, I won't be needing a fitting. I wear an Alpha-eight-six-gee."

"Ah," he nodded, seeming a bit disappointed. He reached into the crate and pulled out a globe. He stood up and held it out for her inspection.

"That'll do," she told him, checking the tiny code laser-etched into the metal stud of the ball. She could tell from the globe's jiggling consistency that these Slipsuits were genuine Durosian-manufacture, never used before. "I'll also be needing a rifle. Something compact, but with stopping power."

He glanced at her in confusion, and gestured to the lightsaber at her belt. "Nee Jedi no wadda…? Keeng no chuuk--"

"I'm going on a hunting trip," she told him quickly, silencing his speculation. "Lightsabers rather take the sport out of it. I was thinking maybe a Blastech G-227? I don't want one of those cheap Czerka knock-offs you've got stacked up there."

"Ki-poona!" he hissed, nodding sagely at her. "Czerka neek-chong meely wang!"

Lal tried not to listen too closely as he ranted about Czerka's various monopolistic practices. She smiled and nodded where appropriate, though. And he led her to the rear of the shop, where he opened a closet. He grinned proudly, revealing a hidden stock of higher quality firearms stacked almost reverently within the closet. He pulled forth the Blastech she'd asked for and slapped the receiver plate open for her inspection.

Lal examined it closely, noticing that there was hardly any carbon scoring, and nodded. "Very good. I'll also be needing supplies. Add them to my bill, if you would."

Lal returned to the front counter as Crattis began filling her order. She saw Canderous leaning in the open doorway of the shop, his arms folded across the breastplate of his blue and silver armor.

"Planning a countryside jaunt, then?" he asked.

"I have business to which I must attend, Canderous."

"So I can see," he replied as Crattis set a crate of supplies down on the counter beside Lal. Lal checked over the supplies and nodded at Crattis. She pulled forth a credstick and handed it over to him. Crattis smiled and slotted the stick into a data reader on the counter.

"Moocha chappa packa," Crattis nodded, handing the credstick back.

"Canderous, make yourself useful, would you?" Lal smiled, nodding her head at the crate of supplies. She slung the rifle over her shoulder and headed for the door. Canderous sighed and hefted the crate up onto his shoulder.

"I noticed you cut quite a striking figure with that lightsaber on your belt," Canderous said as the arrived at the Hawk's ramp.

She glanced over her shoulder at him as the stepped up into the Hawk's belly. She walked straight back into the maintenance bay and laid her new rifle down on one of the work tables. Canderous set the crate down beside the table and leaned against the wall to watch her. Lal pulled up a chair and sat down. She propped the rifle upright and flicked a lever that swung up the receiver from the main assembly. She pulled out the emitter coil and began field stripping the weapon with sharp efficient movements. After she had it stripped down, she began cleaning the parts.

Canderous reached out to flick on a light above the table.

"Thank you," she said. He shrugged in reply.

"Very efficient break-down," he told her. "I doubt I would be much faster."

Lal looked up at him as she polished the emitter lens and then began reassembling the rifle. As she did so, she removed the stock and tossed it aside. Even though it was a collapsible stock, it was too damned heavy. Once the rifle was back together, she held it in one hand and sighted down the length of it. Satisfied, she laid the rifle down and swiveled in her chair to face Canderous.

"Your…_sister_ was here earlier," Canderous said. She told the others you might require assistance in this…business of yours. An argument ensued between your soldier-boy and the little Jedi. He complains a great deal about things he has no power to change."

"Carth isn't _my_ soldier-boy, Canderous."

Canderous shrugged. "As you wish. I take it as a sign of weakness that he has not already claimed you. It is clear he desires you."

"What business is it of yours if he does or doesn't?"

"Only the business of amusement, Lal. If I didn't have these bright little moments in my life, I'm sure I would just simply…burst."

Lal suppressed a chuckle and shook her head. "Your sense of humor's coming along nicely."

"I've been working hard at it. So, you will need my assistance."

"Why do you think that, Canderous?"

"Heh. You are sharpening your spears, so to speak. When a clan readies its blades and pins their cloaks to the ground, they are preparing to fight and die."

"Canderous…your metaphors are truly colorful, but…"

"Obviously, you are embarking on a dangerous task. You will need assistance. Your sister claimed she was restricted from aiding you, but that your…ah…_friends_ might be allowed to help."

"Canderous, I know we've spoken about this--"

"Then it need not be spoken of a second time."

"Canderous…I find myself…_needing _to be honest with you…more so than anyone I know…I don't know why…"

He chuckled. "Likely because I am honest with you when no one else you know is. Except for Mission. She is too simple-witted to be deceptive."

"Leave Mission alone, Canderous. I'm trying to tell you something important. It's about my…my past."

"You're a Jedi?"

"Er…yes…so it seems…"

"Heh. But you are not sure you believe this?"

"Yes. No. I don't know…I can…do things, Canderous…"

"'Things.' Ah. Impressive."

"Oh forget it!" she growled, leaping to her feet. She turned to walk away, but he grabbed her hand, and snapped her around to face him. He yanked her close to him and glared into her face.

"Canderous, she hissed softly, her wrist pulsing in his iron grasp, "If you're not planning on kissing me, I would suggest you remove your hand."

"Bastila has made you too trusting, Lal. Listen to me! I know these Jedi! They are not to be trusted! They are cunning dogs…"

"Perhaps, Canderous," she snarled, pivoting sharply out of his grasp, "you are thinking of Revan and Malak."

"Revan and Malak at least had the courage to stand up for what they believed in. The rest of the Jedi chose cowardice. Though they claim to be champions of the light, they do not hesitate to rely upon deceit and manipulation to achieve their ends. I would respect this if they weren't hypocrites. Respect cunning, Lal, but beware it when it is paired with moral superiority. Whatever they have told you, Lal, do not trust. Their brand of fanaticism will get you killed."

"Canderous…I don't think I can offer you the same…opportunities as I had planned. I must learn what the Jedi know. What they know about me. I have no choice in that. And I cannot have you waiting around for something I may never be able to…to give you."

"Heh. Luckily, I wish for nothing to be given to me. We shall see what we shall see, Lal. And that is all that needs to be said about that. For now."

Lal left Canderous in the maintenance bay and took the corridor that led to the starboard crew cabin. When she saw Mission sprawled across one of the bunks, snoozing fitfully, Lal almost left. Instead, she moved quietly to peer down at Mission. The girl was truly beautiful when she was at rest like this; placid and silent and still. Lal chuckled as she noticed that Mission's lips pouted when she slept, making her seem even younger.

Lal wished she hadn't said what she'd said to Mission. The girl was every inch her sister…as much as Bastila, perhaps. In the past three years, Lal had never loved nor cherished a damn thing. Mission was special. She was no burden. She couldn't be. Not to Lal.

But then Lal realized Mission wasn't the burden at all. Davik would never have given a second thought to Mission had she not been friends with Lal. He wouldn't have hunted her down. Wouldn't have beaten her. Mission's azure skin was still mottled with the bruises and scars of Davik's hospitality. She didn't heal as fast as Lal seemed to.

Lal sighed and turned away from the Twi'lek girl. There was nothing to be said anymore. Nothing she could tell Mission to remove the hurt she'd inflicted. And there was nothing to be done. Being too close to Lal would be the death of Mission. Lal couldn't let that happen, no matter how much it hurt Mission.

Lal pulled her tunic over her head and tossed it on another bunk. She sat down naked on that bunk and began wrenching her boots off. She tugged them off with a grunt and tossed them aside. Then, she stood, holding the jiggling black globe of the unformatted Slipsuit in her palm. She pressed the sphere to her belly and thumbed the metal stud. The jellied ball suddenly splashed over her body, running over her skin like oil. It filled every hollow and spread across every curve, formatting itself to her body. In seconds, it polymerized to a glistening rubbery sheen, covering her from her throat to her toes. As she breathed, she felt the suit shifting and stretching to match the movement of her ribcage.

She bent down to retrieve her boots and Mission grunted behind her.

"Real considerate puttin' your butt in my face," Mission mumbled.

"I'm sorry, Mission," Lal said, sitting down to pull her boots on. "I didn't mean to wake you." Mission rolled onto her side to face Lal, and stared at her with slitted blue eyes.

"I know why you said those things to me, Lal. I'm not stupid. Took me a while to figure it out, but I ain't dumb."

"I know you're not, Mission," Lal sighed, looking down at her lap.

Mission propped herself up on her elbow and scowled. "You coulda just said that you didn't want to put me in any danger. I woulda understood."

Lal finished pulling her boots on and stood to strap her belt around her hips. She noticed Mission's lips still bore the pout she'd worn in sleep. Lal moved to sit down on Mission's bunk, and twisted to lay a hand on the girl's shoulder. The frown wrinkling Mission's brow smoothed out as she looked up into Lal's eyes.

"We've been through a lot, haven't we?" Lal asked softly, stroking Mission's arm. Mission simply nodded. Lal reached out to touch a faint scar the ran down Mission's cheek. "I'm responsible for this," Lal told her. "I don't want to be responsible for anything else. You and Zaalbar are…you are the only things I've ever cared about, Mission. I'm not used to that. I…I don't…that's not an excuse…oh bloody hell…"

Mission rolled onto her back and folded her arms across her breasts. "I'm a liability. Canderous was right."

"Mission, I…you…You and I are…Carth accused me of thinking too much of myself. I suppose he was right. But that's all that I really know. And right now, I _know_ that I'm going to be doing some dangerous things."

"But why?" Mission moaned. "Why do you have to? Because Bastila says she's your sister? Because you're some sort of…Jedi or something?"

"Does everybody know about this, then?" Lal sighed.

"Lal, we could just go. You don't owe them anything. We could find some planet, some beautiful little place no one's ever heard of…you, me and Zaalbar. You've done enough for the Jedi…or the Republic…or whoever…" Mission fell silent and rolled her eyes.

"Mission, I wish I could explain it…so that…so that it makes sense. I can't because I don't even understand what's going on…But, I _must_ know who and what I was, Mission. You must understand that. The past three years, Mission, it's like they've been a dream…a nightmare. No…not even that. I wish I could put it into words, Mission. I really do. It's like…watching a holo-vid; you see what's happening, but there's no…no connection to any of it."

Lal lowered her eyes and rose to her feet. She placed a hand on her hip and gazed down at Mission. "Bastila _is_ my sister, Mission. I feel the…the _truth_ of that. But I have another sister."

"Huh?" Mission grunted, sitting upright. She stared blankly at Lal. "You've got _another_ sister?"

Lal nodded, a smile peeking past her lips. "That's right. Although she is a bit slow sometimes. Not much of a family resemblance."

"Oh…" Mission's face brightened and she grinned broadly. "Lal, you completely had me going…"

"You're rather an easy mark," Lal chuckled. Mission popped up out of her bunk and threw her arms around Lal. Lal faked a sigh of annoyance and hugged Mission tightly to her.

"Lal, you'd be so proud of me, because I'm a completely incredible shot! Zaalbar says I'm a natural, and I'm sure I could help you out, you know? Like, I could watch your back and stuff…"

Lal groaned and held Mission at arms length to look into her eyes. "Stop."

"But, Lal…I…"

"Stop."

"Lal…my place is with you! I don't have anything else…My brother abandoned me…my parents…I don't have any parents…I'm just…I know I can be useful. I mean…not a burden and all…"

Lal sighed and pulled away from the Twi'lek. "Mission…I can't believe you. I just…Do you think I enjoy this? That I'm happy doing the things I've done? Is that what you think? Why do you think it's so bad being…being a normal girl?"

"Normal girl…I'm a normal girl?" Mission sank back down on the edge of her bunk and chuckled. "I'm a normal girl…okay. Makes sense. Thanks for clueing me in, Lal." She pointed to the slave tattoo burned upon her brow. "This should tell everybody, right? Mission's _normal_! She has a normal life! She has friends and a boyfriend, and she's smart and knows normal things…hey, maybe she can go to University on Coruscant, and she can study…study…I don't know…she can _study_! Because she's normal!"

Lal sat down on the bunk opposite Mission and placed her hands in her lap. She gazed across at Mission, and for the first time, recognized the helplessness she saw in Mission's eyes.

"Lal…I may not be as smart as you or as good as you…I don't know things like you do…And I know that…I need to know things. To survive. This thing on my face tells everyone that I'm just a piece of property. On my own…it's only a matter of time before someone decides they have the right to make me…to make me do what _they_ want. Don't you understand that?"

Lal stared at Mission in silence and reason waged a war with sentiment inside her skull. The cold logic that had been born in Taris' gutters whispered in Lal's thoughts, promising that Mission would be a liability. That chill, analytical voice computed the variables and displayed them as hardened unadulterated fact. But her heart moaned and bleated, and cried that Mission's worth could not be reduced to such base terms. Mission needed someone to guide her and protect her.

And since nobody else cared about Mission, that person had to be Lal.

"Alright, Mission," Lal finally said. "I will explain to you how things will be between us. First, let me tell you something: if you get yourself killed, I shall be very cross with you…"

"I don't like the thought of camping out in the open," Carth grunted, taking a bearing with the auto-compass built into the wrist computer he wore.

Mission peeked out the hatch of the heavy speeder they'd rented and squinted into the dying orange globe of the setting sun. "Well," she sighed, "it doesn't look like there's a whole lot out here besides 'the open'…"

Carth rolled his eyes and slowly turned to face her. "Why, Mission, thank you for pointing out the _merely _obvious as opposed to the _extremely_ obvious…"

The Twi'lek frowned at him as she stepped down from the massive speeder. "Huh?"

Lal glanced back at both of them where she stood on the edge of the hilltop. "The point being, we don't have much choice, and this hill is as close to a defensive position as were likely to find before dark." They'd coaxed the huge Sorosuub speeder up to the crest of a bulge in the grasslands, a modest hilltop that afforded them a clear view for miles. The Sorosuub X-10 sat like an armored blister on the spine of the hill. The vehicle was squat and wide-bodied, like an Iridonian turtle dragon with its horned skull and spiked limbs drawn inside its shell to bear down against an acid squall.

On her palmtop, Lal looked through AyVee's eyes as the little droid soared high above the ground, searching for any signs of movement. The droid also did an occasional terrain scan, pulsing a sensor beam from his under-chassis to update the ancient map the Jedi had downloaded into Lal's computer. Twice already, Lal had been forced to redirect AyVee's lagging concentration; curiosity had sent him zipping after a flight of manta-wings drifting low for an afternoon feed. And he had dropped altitude to have a chat with a decidedly lonely communications relay droid sitting in a dry gully several kilometers back.

On the screen she could see the tiny image of Canderous, far below AyVee, setting up perimeter charges. For a moment, Lal wondered where the Mandalorian got all the explosives he gleefully put into play. Zaalbar was also out there, somewhere, his fur blending in with the tall dun-colored grasses, tracking the spoor of kath hounds. Lal didn't like the Wookiee being alone out there in the long grasses, but figured he was more than a match for a kath hound or two.

Lal hooked the palmtop to her belt and sighed. The sun was low enough that it made long-legged spiders of their shadows, scattering them wide across the hill's rounded surface. Behind her, Carth flicked on a bulky heater pack. Inside it, trinium coils began to warm up with a hum, sending out a sphere of dull heat. He glanced at Lal and managed to summon up half a smile for her benefit. But she could sense his mounting frustration. She smiled back and watched him as he tossed Mission a food-pak and then tore open one for himself.

Mission glanced at her food-pak and gingerly ripped open the silvery wrapping. She sniffed the contents experimentally and fished out one of the uninspired gray protein blocks. Carth chuckled as he watched Mission, and bit into his own food.

"It's good for you," he told Mission. "It'll put hair on your chest."

"Just what I always wanted," Mission growled, taking a tiny bite. Her face contorted and her eyes shriveled shut in disgust. "Mmm. My favorite…permacrete flavor…"

Carth laughed and wiped crumbs from his mouth with the back of his sleeve. "Dust flavor is the best," he joked. "One good thing about these protein blocks, they actually brush your teeth while you're eating…"

"Better not give any to the Carpet, then," Lal said.

Mission immediately brightened up. "I bet he's found something better to eat…maybe some tube grubs…think they have rubblebugs on Dantooine?"

"Tend to doubt it, kid," Carth said. "You don't really eat those things do you?"

Mission cocked her head and her lekku quivered indignantly. "They're totally considered a delicacy on Ryloth," she announced. "If you fix 'em right. So I've been told, anyways. 'Course, they were a cred a dozen in Undercity. But those low-dweller pink skins always over-cooked 'em…"

"Never seen Ryloth, huh?" Carth asked.

Mission shrugged and hugged herself tightly in the chill air. "Not so's I remember, anyway…my brother, Griff and me left when I was a baby, after our parents died. I was too little to remember a whole lot…"

Carth grunted and nodded. "Heatstorms make these weird convection patterns in the Sandlands. At mid-sun, the sand gets stirred into the air and forms fractal patterns, held together by static discharge. They spin around like kilometer-wide snowflakes…"

"What's a snowflake?" Mission asked.

Carth stared at her in blank surprise. "It didn't snow on Taris?"

"Maybe it did at one point in time," Lal said. "They'd been engineering weather for so many centuries that the seasons were all bollicksed up."

"Pity," Carth sighed, grinning at both of them. "You ladies would love the snow sheets of Auris Prime. Little resort world just off the Koornacht. Low gravity, so the skiing is insane."

"Never found much value in resort worlds," Canderous said, rejoining them, "at least, not beyond what could be looted and pillaged. Heh. Nothing like a resort world for booty, of course."

"For what?" Mission gasped.

"Treasure," Lal explained.

Canderous seemed to think about it for a moment and shrugged. "That too."

"Great," Carth hissed, his mood souring, "color commentary from the bloodthirsty savage."

"Heh," Canderous chuckled, turning to Lal. "Charges are set. Belly-poppers loaded with Free-Shot. Should rip the guts out of any quadruped that gets curious.

"Just make sure you don't go sleepwalking, Joygirl," he pointed a finger at Mission. "Or it'll take a good deal more than make-up to get you pretty again."

Mission waited until Canderous had his back turned before she stuck her tongue out at him. By then, Zaalbar had made his way back up the hill, with three bloodied carcasses slung over his shoulder. The Wookiee growled a warning to stay away from his dinner, and he moved off to the far corner of the speeder to hunker down and tear into the meat he'd rustled up.

"Just going to eat that raw, are you, Carpet?" Lal murmured, her nose wrinkling up.

"Ugh," Mission groaned. "I think I'm gonna be sick."

"Yeah," Carth nodded, "I think dinner's over. I'm gonna take first watch."

_Revan smiled beneath that iron mask and glanced down at Malak, trusted, loyal Malak. Before them, stretched over every surface of a bridge suspended over the LowCity canyons of Taris, stood a hundred Jedi Knights from every corner of the known galaxy, their fists raised into the air; lightsabers gleamed into the golden morning. And behind the hundred Jedi stood the elite guard of the Republic, cheering, all staring at Revan._

_Revan stood on a makeshift podium; a hovering STAP floating in the midst of a blocked intersection. Never had Revan seen so many Jedi in a single place. Revan could hardly believe there were so many…_

_"This…is the dawn of a new day," Revan cried out, not knowing where the words had been born. "A new season! When you find yourselves at a quiet moment of your life, looking back on the path you walked, you will always be able to say, 'I stood in the first light of that first day! I was there! I made it happen!' Today is the day when we stare the darkness in the eye, when we do not turn. Today we stand and say, 'YOU WILL NOT PASS! HERE IS THE LINE WE DRAW, AND PASS IT AT YOUR PERIL!'"_

_A roar rose up, cheering Revan's words._

_Later, Revan and Malak walked the Loop of LowCity, accompanied by an honor guard of young Jedi. "More are coming every day, Revan," Malak whispered excitedly. "I mean, most of them are just Padawans, but they are eager for the fight…"_

_"Eager," Revan sighed. "You say that like it's a good thing…"_

_Malak turned and frowned at his best friend. "Well…isn't it? I thought…"_

_"Mal, this isn't going to be like the few skirmishes we've been in so far…We'll be fighting fleets! Armies! Eager is going to get these Padawans killed! On Coruscant, they taught us fear was the path to the Dark Side…but I rather think it'll be the thing that keeps us all alive. They must learn that. I don't need fearless men!"_

_Malak glanced back at the other Jedi walking with them and shrugged._

_They came around the Loop to an open archway where several Jedi stood guard. Revan glanced back at Malak. "Is this where the Hutt is?"_

_Malak nodded and gestured to a young woman approaching through the archway. She was a Jedi, small of frame with eyes like dark coals. Her close cropped dark hair framed her soft face in curled spikes. She fell in beside Revan and nodded curtly._

_"We've run the Hutt aground as you wished, Revan. He had all but abandoned his operation here in LowCity. He was trying to escape when we picked him up. He had…several Mandalorian thugs with him, Revan…"_

_"Thank you, Sideen," Revan said, glancing at Malak. "We would speak with this creature."_

_Tanka the Hutt was a mound of quivering pale flesh, laying in swollen coils in the center of a large, dimly lit chamber. Several Republic warriors stood guard on the Hutt, while other soldiers stood over a trio of manacled Mandalorians in a corner. A cluster of nearly naked humans and aliens huddled fearfully together under the watchful eye of one of the Jedi Padawans._

_Revan's gaze swept over the naked ones, and saw several children in their midst. Utterly terrified. Revan turned to glare coolly at Tanka the Hutt and strode up before the fat-jowled monstrosity. "Well. Quite an honor, I'm sure," Revan hissed. "Your name is feared across half the quadrant."_

_"Eee chutta," Tanka rumbled, his voice like wet thunder. His slitted yellow eyes narrowed angrily as he glanced back and forth at the Jedi and soldiers assembled before him._

_Revan chuckled at the Hutt's foul mouth. "You're going to tell us where you were going, Tanka. Your Syndicate can't save you now."_

_"Mucha chaap paak, Jedi. Nee chuupa no Pazaak-cha."_

_"Nevertheless, you will speak. Your operation here is shattered. No more slaving, I'm afraid. These people are now free." Revan turned and eyed a young girl. Revan smiled and walked over to take the girl's hand. She was tall and slender, her white skin frosted with a down of silver fur. Stripes cut across her fur in dark slashes. She glanced up at Revan with fearful orange eyes._

_"It's alright now, child," Revan soothed, smoothing the girl's ragged silver hair. "You are free. Tell me your name, girl."_

_"J-Juhani…"_

Lal awoke with a start and glanced around. Zaalbar hovered over her, grunting softly as he looked around in the night. His wet black nose twitched as he scented the air. Lal rose silently beside the Wookiee and her hand slipped towards the lightsaber at her belt. Carth was up, pulling a long rifle from the cargo bay of the Sorosuub. Canderous drifted beside Lal like a ghost.

"Movement beyond the perimeter," Canderous whispered. He nodded his head to the west, and Lal's eyes followed. Beyond the broad sweep of the hill, she saw a blanket of thick white fog clinging to the top of the grass. In the distance, she could see dark swirls wafting through the pale mists, forming milky shapes that swam beneath the cloudy surface and disappeared.

Lal fumbled for her palmtop and flicked it on. "AyVee," she whispered sharply, "up. Now." At her command, the little droid whizzed up out of the speeder and jetted into the sky. She turned back to Canderous. "They're not coming any closer…are they?"

He shook his head and squinted out into the distance. "Don't quite know why. They're all around, though. Waiting for something…"

Carth stepped up beside Lal and hefted one of his blasters against his shoulder. "Doesn't really matter what they're waiting for. You set the charges, right Canderous? So, when they do come it'll look like a Mandalorian holiday. What we need to do is lay down some fields of fire to take out anything that gets through."

Lal looked at him, searching his eyes; she found the steel she needed and gave a nod. "Canderous, north face. Zaalbar, you go with him and set up on the opposite side of the Speeder. Stay in sight of each other. Carth, south side of the hill, and I'll take the eastern face."

"Lal," Mission whispered from the speeder hatch, poking her head out, "I know you probably want me to hide in the speeder…but I'm a real good shot…"

Lal sighed and glanced down at her palmtop. AyVee flew in a wide circle high above the ground, peering down. His scanners sliced into the infrared spectrum, stripping away the sheets of cold white fog and painting the ground beneath in blazing reds and vulgar greens. Lal sucked in a breath as she saw the powerful bodies whipping about on the screen; they snarled and butted heads against densely muscled flanks. Tails snapped and teeth gnashed and blackened talons clawed at the ground.

AyVee flew over the writhing mass of kath hounds, banking sharply. He released a tiny trembling whistle as he moved, and on the screen, Lal saw a figure standing amidst the swarm of beasts. Tall and lean in the infrared scan, burning red and orange. The figure glanced upwards, directly at AyVee, and Lal saw its eyes, pitch black against the heat of its body.

The screen erupted into static.

"What the bloody hell," Lal hissed, frowning at the palmtop. She felt a shiver of electricity crawl down her spine and she glanced up into the dark sky. A pin prick of blue light jabbed through the black curtain of night and blossomed into a burning rose of fire. She heard AyVee cry out sharply, sounding like a human. Smoke trailed downward, making a fiery arc into the ground. "AyVee!" Lal called.

The droid fell to the ground enfolded in sheets of lightning and flame, illuminating the pacing kath hounds in shades of red. Lal gasped angrily, hooking the palmtop back onto her belt. She squinted out into the darkness and saw the shapes surge forward all at once. Her hand dropped to the hilt of her lightsaber reflexively. She gave a tiny shake of her head and reached instead for the rifle slung over her shoulder. She brought it down against her hip and waited for Canderous' charges to blow. She fumbled with the rifle, couching it in her arms, and then bracing it against her shoulder. Strangely, it just didn't feel…comfortable in her grip.

With an annoyed sigh, Lal turned to Mission and tossed the rifle to her. Mission caught it with a look of surprise. She stepped out of the speeder and moved to stand beside Lal.

"Down on one knee," Lal said to the girl. She moved in behind Mission as she knelt, and guided the rifle up against Mission's shoulder. "Hold it tight. It'll have some kick. Only shoot at what you can target along the sight. When they get close, drop the bloody thing and use that pistol on your hip. Understood?" Mission simply nodded, sighting down the length of the rifle.

The first explosion slammed a sheet of light and blood into the air. Another followed, bursting hound flesh into flaming gobbets. Detonations cracked and whumped all around them as the kath hounds charged madly towards the hill from all sides. Torn bodies flew through the air amidst clouds of fire and thunder. The mists were ripped away by compression waves and wet heat.

And still they came.

The second ring of charges went, shattering bones and shredding meat. Corpses fell in pieces, littering the grasslands and painting the ground red. Carbon charred the air with it's smoking stench. Lal couldn't even begin to count the bodies, but heard the keening wail of the pack as more charged through. Their numbers were thin, now; instead of a wave, they surged forth in rivulets of churning muscle and flesh. Snorting, snarling, growling, they tore up the hill.

Canderous and Zaalbar opened fire; Canderous with his heavy blaster rifle, spraying energy bolts in sheets down at the creatures; Zaalbar hurling plasma spears from his bowcaster that tore bodies apart. Carth unleashed with both his weapons, surgically dropping kath hounds with devilish accuracy. He fired from the hip, or stiff armed, snapping shots of with casual skill.

Mission murmured a string of incoherent babble under her breath as she sighted and squeezed the trigger. The powerful rifle blazed neat little holes into skulls and flanks, and Lal noted with some amusement, that nothing Mission aimed at got back up again.

But she had only a second to think on this. She almost didn't notice the lightsabers humming in her palms. Didn't question how they'd gotten there. She didn't stop to ponder the wave of liquid electricity coursing through her muscles. She didn't think. She didn't wonder.

She simply moved.

Propelled by a phantom gale, she flew down the hill, into the midst of the charging hounds. Her lightsabers struck like lightning bolts crackling in her fists. She spun and slashed, whirled and thrust. She dropped to one knee and whipped both blades in a low arc around her body. Flesh sizzled as bodies fell around her in a blur. Hounds screamed like men as her blades burned through muscle and bone.

The pure unadulterated ecstasy of motion flooded her senses, and she felt herself becoming a storm, imagined a whirl of wind and light surrounding her. Her blades sang back at her as she spun and twisted them around her.

And all at once, she stopped, because nothing around her lived. She glanced around in shock at the sudden stillness, and looked back up the hill. Carth rose from a crouch and finished off a kath hound that had fallen only a few feet away. Mission lay gasping on her back, pressed against the speeder. She held Lal's blaster pistol in both hands, still aiming it at a massive hound laying in a heap atop her legs.

"Mission," Lal murmured, running back up the hill. Carth was already at Mission's side, heaving the body from her legs. Zaalbar and Canderous joined them, both breathing hard. Lal knelt beside Mission and checked the girl for injuries.

"I'm f-fine," Mission panted, her eyes wide with terror. Lal helped the girl to her feet and slid an arm around her trembling shoulders.

"You did well, honey," Lal whispered, kissing Mission's sweating brow. Mission gave a stiff nod and clutched the blaster tightly against her thigh.

"What has driven these kath hounds to this madness?" Canderous wondered aloud. "It was as if something was…driving them onward. Like a fire."

"Never seen anything like it," Carth murmured, fixing a questing gaze on Lal. She suddenly realized he wasn't talking about the maddened kath hounds. She glanced down at the lightsabers, now joined into a single cylinder, hanging at her belt. "You really _are _a Jedi," he said breathlessly.

Lal turned away from him to stare out across the dark plains. She could feel something standing out there in the night. That billowing shadow she'd seen the night before. "Something is out there," she said quietly. "It destroyed AyVee. It's controlling the kath hounds…"

Canderous scowled dubiously at her and shook his head. "How? How is such a thing possible?"

"The Force," she whispered back, shrugging her shoulders. "Don't ask me to explain it…" She returned her gaze to the mist-drenched grasslands, feeling that presence again. Like a weight leaning against her inside a dark closet. "It's out there, and I have to stop it."

Zaalbar howled at her and shook his shaggy head. Carth nodded in agreement. "He's right, Lal. You can't go out there alone. Not until it's light. You asked us to help you, after all. We'll do this together, when the sun's up."

"Much as I hate to admit, 'Public's right," Canderous grunted. "Only a fool would go out there alone. It stinks of a trap."

"I'm not alone," she told them. She was about to add: _The Force is my ally_, but had no idea where that thought came from. Or perhaps, she did know. But she refused to give voice to it. "Evading a trap requires knowledge of it. And I know. I'll stay in contact with my wristcomm."

"Lal," Carth warned, "This is stupid! Don't--"

"Carth," she cut in sharply. "I'm still who I am. I didn't survive three years of Taris by being stupid, did I? _Did I_?"

"Then don't be stupid now!" Carth snarled back. "Dammit, Lal…the Council is gonna get you killed doing this!"

Canderous chuckled and nodded. "He said it, not me. Of course, I have already told you this…"

"Would you all stop worrying? You sound like old women. Besides, when have you ever known me to go into a situation unprepared? I have a plan."

Which was, of course, an utter lie.

Lal trudged knee-deep through the thick, clinging mists. It tugged at her feet and legs, and squeezed icy fingers against her flesh through her Slipsuit. The fog covered the land for miles, like stale custard, and she could no longer even feel the grass whispering against her legs. Looking around, she wondered if she was even on Dantooine any longer. She could have accidentally stepped through her dreams into some hazy nightmare. Or perhaps, with a single unknowing step, she had leaped far above the ground, and now walked across the clouds. An absurd thought, perhaps. But she had no indication of the ground. Not any longer.

Then, without her active knowledge, the land swept upwards in a broad, gentle slope, pulling free of the white mists. Standing at the crest of the slope was the ragged shadow; the fluttering, billowing thing that was master of the pack. Lal paused and glared up at the shadow figure. She made to climb the slope, but realized she had company. To either side of her, twenty or so feet away, there crouched two of the largest kath hounds she had yet seen. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched them. Built like mountains with squat, powerful legs, these hounds were each crowned with a pair of long, knobby horns thrusting out from either side of their massive skulls. Thick, heavy incisors stabbed forth crookedly from their silently gnashing jaws.

_"They will not strike unless it is commanded,"_ the shadow whispered, its words worming their way inside her head. Lal felt her skin prickle and shrivel as the thing spoke in her mind. She felt the urge to claw the sound of it from her ears. _"Who are you to come in the night, Jedi?"_

"I am Lal Sid—Lal Shan…and you…what _are_ you?"

_"A shadow. A ghost. Nothing more than a memory. A memory of anger. Of sadness. Of betrayal. Of loyalties lost. Once chained and manacled in a death ill-deserved. Now there is only this. And…hunger."_

"A memory? What is that supposed to mean? Am I to believe you're some ghost?"

_"Once there was life. Now…no longer. Only will. Only desire. Only power."_

"Why are you controlling these creatures? Making them kill? What do you want?"

_"It is the way of the Force. The Pack obeys because it is the way. Want is unknown. There is no want. There is desire. There is hunger. There is will. You have come seeking. Seeking to fill the expanse inside you. Seeking to know. Knowledge exists…"_

Lal frowned at the spectral thing and took a step forward. "What? What do you know of me?"

_"Only that you have been here before. That life for you ended and was begun again. Here."_

Lal slowly moved closer, watching the hounds out of the corner of her eye. "You're not making any sense. Speak plainly!"

_"That is not why you have come. Your answers must be twisted like the roots…like the roots of the Grove! You seek the shadow! And you will find it! For you are blinded. Blinded even as you walk…"_

Lal snarled and leaped forward. Her lightsaber sprang to life, unleashing both blades. The hounds charged her with a roar, and she found herself leaping above them as their horns crashed together. She swung her legs up and over her head, tumbling in the air to land behind the creatures. She stabbed her blade forward, like a spear, burning a hole into the skull of one hound. She twisted the hilt apart into two blades, and swept downward into the thick neck of the second.

Lal stepped back as both creatures fell dead. She glanced up at the shadow and hurled herself towards it. Her blades spun in her hands, slashing bright lavender circles through the shadow's billowing body. But she cut through thin air. And the shadow remained before her. It lowered its hooded face towards her and burned down upon her with glowing red eyes.

_"Your blades will find nothing here. You will find nothing here. The Grove. The Grove…"_

"Damn you!" Lal cried angrily. "What are you? _What are you_?"

_"I am the Grove…"_ It gave a final moist hiss within her thoughts and then disappeared. Lal jerked backwards, shock and disbelief trickling down into her belly in cold, heavy droplets. She glanced around suddenly, and saw the mists evaporating, burning away before her eyes.

Heat flooded the smooth planes of her face and she glanced up into the sky. The sun soared up from beneath the horizon like a firebird. It tore a path through the night, stripping away the darkness in an instant. It's burning arms painted the sky orange and white, and dizziness spun Lal's brain inside her skull. She gasped, feeling a wave of icy nausea spilling forth from her belly.

The sun suddenly paused in its too-swift ascent to glare down on her like a single orange eye. And then, blades of light pierced her, and she fell to the grass. She groaned and writhed, trying to stand. But her muscles were rubber.

A shadow fell across her and she reached desperately for her lightsaber…

"Lal?" Carth's voice called above her. His shape blotted the sun's glare from her eyes. "Lal, are you alright? What happened to you?"

"I don't know," she murmured, letting him help her up. She huddled weakly in his strong arms as her stomach quivered. He stood her up, but she fell heavily against him. "I feel so…so strange…"

She glanced around and saw the Sorosuub speeder hovering to a stop a few feet away from her. Zaalbar howled angrily from the top hatch of the speeder, waving his long arms above his head. Lal listened to his growling, warbling rant and she shook her head.

"No, that's absurd," she told the Wookiee.

"No, Lal," Carth said, holding her tightly to him. "You've been out here the entire night. We've been looking for you all morning. Are you hurt? Let me take a look…"

"I'm fine," she gasped, shaking her head. "How long did you say?"

"It's been…it's been at least ten hours since you took off, Lal…"

"Ten?" she cried, staggering drunkenly away from him. He caught her before she could fall. "N-no…It was only an hour…two at most…I saw it…I spoke to it…"

"It? _It_? You…you must have passed out."

"No. No, I must get to the Grove. That must be where it is…where the power is coming from. I have to…"

"You're not going anywhere, Lal," Carth told her. "You're in no condition to do anything! Look, I'm taking you back to the Enclave. We'll--"

"No, Carth! You're not…I'm not going back just yet! I have to get to that Grove, and that's what I intend to do! I'll bloody-well walk if I must!"

"Dammit! You…you're even more stubborn than Bastila!" he sighed angrily and glanced away. "Alright, Lal. We'll do it your way."

The Sorosuub speeder rumbled and trembled around her as Lal tried not to sleep. The dreams came every time she dozed off, it seemed, and she was tired of them. Tired of seeing Revan hiding from her, within all that armor; tired of seeing Malak innocent and loyal. And there was that woman…the Jedi. Sideen. That was what Revan had called her. Why did she have the same name as Lal?

Lal had to stop herself; Sideen was not her real name. Shan was. Perhaps the question was, _why did Lal take the name of this woman_? Was she…were they the same person? Lal reflexively touched her hair, remembering that she often felt uncomfortable with it being so long. That's why she pinned it up and tied it back to keep it out of her way. This woman…_Sideen_…her hair was almost a perfect length for what Lal did…it would never get in the way or fall over her eyes at the worst possible moment…

She tried recalling the woman's face in her dream, but could not. The details, the faces in her dreams were only clear while she was dreaming them. Not after. Never after…

Lal shook her head to clear her thoughts and gazed out the windshield. Beside her, Carth drove the heavy speeder into a series of ancient riverbeds, now grown over and run riot with long grasses. He had to tune up the repulsorlift-feedback because the ground was deceptively uneven beneath the tall grass, and sharp stones and boulders jutted suddenly up, threatening to tear the speeder's belly open. Canyon walls rose up in shades of gray and white, bleached by the sun, forming meandering channels and dry, ox-bow valleys.

In the rear cabin of the speeder, Zaalbar divided his time between piecing together AyVee's scorched parts and teaching Mission how to field-strip her new-found rifle. Luckily, most of AyVee's logic architecture and CPU shielding was intact; the droid could still communicate…well, as much as his beeps and whistles could be considered communication…but his chassis had been completely charred and many of his primary systems were fried. Lal almost felt sorry for the droid as he lay there, utterly helpless and immobile, crooning in forlorn tones.

"Don't worry, Little guy," Mission told the droid. "Big Z will make you just like new." She flipped the rifle up on her thigh and smiled. "There."

Zaalbar grunted dubiously at her confidence in his skills. Then he glanced up and snarled at her, pointing a claw down at the pile of bolts left over. She glanced down and shrugged innocently.

"I thought there was always supposed to be stuff left over when you take something apart…"

Lal shook her head. "Mission with a gun. Maybe that was another bad idea…"

Carth just flicked his eyes at her and continued driving in silence. Lal sighed and nodded. "Okay…I wonder if Canderous is ever going to get tired of sitting on the top of this bloody can…"

The Mandalorian rode up top, his leg dangling lazily down through the open hatch. Though he'd claimed it was a good vantage point to spot any more kath hounds, Lal was sure he just wanted to get away from the rest of them. Lal often thought she was the only thing keeping Canderous from killing all of them in a fit of annoyance…

She wondered how long that would last, though. The man remained a mystery to her. A psychotic killing machine with a sense of…honor? Nobility? Perhaps that wasn't so strange. She'd know a lot of killers in her time on Taris. Many of them had problems with impulse control, of course, and working as a hired gun for Davik was just the sort of release they needed. Mindless thugs, mostly, with no concept of moderation. They were like sledgehammers, terrifying only because of their ability to crudely and completely pulverize things.

But a few were truly madmen, as precise as a surgical laser, cutting away exactly what they intended and nothing more. Such men often had rituals. Routines. Soulless, calculating logic. They adhered to their codes of conduct, like Canderous seemed to. He was not a brute, even though he relished killing. She felt safe with him, so long as she followed his codes. Unfortunately, she didn't really know what those codes were. She didn't fancy the thought of what would happen if she unwittingly stepped outside his invisible boundaries.

But every man had his limits. Within those limits, they were tiny little gods, full of confidence and strength enough to snap anyone in two. But pushed outside those limits, they tended to break down. Lal knew how to push them beyond their limits. But further, in order to survive, she had learned to impose her own boundaries on them once they were outside. She doubted any of her old techniques would work on Canderous.

They barely seemed to be working on Carth.

And while Carth was certainly being pushed further and further outside his own limits, Lal was equally certain she had no interest in manipulating him. He was already being manipulated, in her estimation; by the Jedi Council, by the Republic High Command…She almost wanted to just grab Carth and take off to some alien paradise, as Mission had suggested, just to get him away from all of this death and uncertainty. To need nothing more than a beach of smooth white sand and seas of pale crystal…that would be heaven.

Instead, she had this world, with its Jedi and its nightmares and ghosts, and its madmen and tyrants…

She turned to Carth once more and watched him for a few minutes as he drove. "You're upset with me again."

"I'm not upset with you," he said, glancing briefly at her.

"You're upset."

"No. I'm not."

"Yes, you are. I know you well enough by now to know when you're upset."

He pressed a hand to his forehead and groaned. "Lal, I'm not upset, but you're driving me crazy, over here…"

"I get that a lot, actually," she chuckled, giving him a wicked grin. "However, I think you'll find that it's almost impossible to stay mad at me."

Carth sighed and released a grudging smile. "I'm not mad at you."

"Not anymore."

"Gimme a break, huh?" he grinned, "I'm trying to drive and you're distracting me."

"I can think of a much more distracting form of distraction, Carth…"

He chuckled softly. "Lal…I want some answers. I think I'm entitled. Besides…we both know you're really just trying to distract yourself…"

Her smile faded with a sigh and she stared down at her hands in her lap. "I…I suppose so. I wish I had the answers for you, Carth. There's…_something_ in this Grove…whatever it is, it's responsible for what's happening to these animals. I intend to stop it. Beyond that, I don't know what to tell you…"

"And this is what the Council wanted you for? This is why I was sent to help Bastila rescue you? To stop…some thing from messing around with some local wildlife? Pull the other one, huh?"

"Carth…I…you…you're problem isn't with me. It's with the bloody Council. I honestly don't know what this has to do with anything…they keep feeding me a line about needing my expertise to fight Malak…but that's patently absurd. I don't remember…a…thing…" She caught herself drifting away, her mind filling with dreams…She shook her head and looked over at Carth. "You obviously know more about it than I do…About Revan and Malak…."

"Nobody really knows a whole lot about Revan. Always wore that damned mask. Malak…I heard tell that he used to be a slave. I don't know if there's any truth to it, but stories say he was trained from childhood as a pitfighter on Nal Hutta. He'd be a lethal bastard even he wasn't a Jedi. Well…former Jedi…."

"But…my face…my name…You don't recognize…you never met me?"

"Lal, you…I'd never forget your face…The uh, the Jedi, and Revan and Malak…they didn't exactly fraternize. And certainly not with the junior officers. Besides, it wasn't like I was involved with them during the entire war. I mean, my squadron had a lot of missions with the Jedi, but we were usually flying escort, or high cover. Or we'd be knocking the hell out of some target while they were ground-pounding. Not a lot of time for chit-chat when you're strapped into the cockpit of a Sweep-Wing that's just dumped steel on a target and is pulling gees off the hard deck, climbing back up the well to get back to the hangar before enemy sensors could paint you for a concussion missile…"

"So…so why did the Council want you to escort Bastila to find me?"

"Well…first thing you gotta understand is, the mission went south from the get-go. We ran afoul of a Sith interdictor. Pulled us right out of hyperspace with a gravity projector. The _Endar Spire_ was just a frigate. Not a battle wagon. They hit us with everything they had. All the Jedi on board got killed. It was supposed to be a task force. I think there were five other Jedi on board. A unit of commandoes trained for urban ops, too. None of 'em made it out.

"When Revan and Malak turned their war against the Republic, I was running my own squadron on the _Aurora Star_. When we began coordinating with the Jedi on Coruscant, they gave me a promotion to Captain and put me into special ops training. I had a lot of experience from back when the Mandies were trying to invade Telos. After I made Captain, I was driving a sleek little Corellian corvette. Almost as small as the _Hawk_, but with a hell of a lot more firepower and armor. The _Black Hammer._ Technically, the _Hammer_ was a capital ship, but she was really a fast transport. Designed for quick Down-Well hops. Fire support, troop transport, that sort of thing. I put down a lot of Jedi over the course of the first year. Sometimes, I had to go in with them on whatever op they were pulling. Usually, I'd just stay on-station and provide cover. I flew on more missions with Jedi in my hold than anybody. Right up until the _Hammer_ got blasted out of the sky. Because of that experience, Command shipped me off to Coruscant, working with the Council directly."

"The Council was originally on Coruscant, right?" she asked with a frown.

He nodded. "The Jedi decided to move their leadership from Coruscant once Malak proved he could touch them there. Rather than have their entire leadership situated in one place, they split them up. Now…there's no _one_ Council anywhere. But these guys…Master Vandar is just about the oldest Jedi around…Wherever he is, that's probably gonna be the senior Council of the moment if you follow my meaning."

Lal absorbed his words with a slow nod. It brought certain other things to light that had given her pause. If the Council was in hiding, and had spread its numbers across the galaxy, then it was little wonder they had no one available to deal with the Grove. It also explained why none of the Council members had embarked on this mission; they were each too important to risk. Better to leave it to an amnesiac who, if nothing else, was eminently expendable…

"I wish your droid hadn't gotten himself fried," Carth sighed, glancing down at the map on his wrist-comp. "We could use a little aerial recon right about now." Carth brought the Sorosuub to a halt and pointed up ahead, where the canyons began to narrow into a warren of ancient channels and dry waterways. "Not gonna be able to get this beast through there."

"And obviously," Lal added, "visibility will be…compromised." And so, she had come to the moment she had been dreading. A cold knot of desperation twisted her insides and sent a shrill twinge up into her chest. She sighed heavily and glanced at Carth. "This…is where we part company, I should think. I'm going to have to do this next bit on my own."

She made to get up from her seat, but Carth grabbed her wrist and stared up into her face. "Lal. That's…that's not wise. There could be an ambush laying in wait around each of those twists and bends up ahead. Hell, you could hide a whole army in there and we'd never see it…You're hell with that lightsaber of yours, but…"

"But what Carth?"

"But…think, Lal. Would you do this on Taris? It's just not smart…"

"There are a number of things I did on Taris that were not _smart,_" she told him pointedly. He lowered his eyes and released her wrist.

"Okay. I had that coming…"

She smiled and knelt down beside his seat, taking his hand in both of hers. "Carth, I'm _glad_ I did at least a few of those things. If I hadn't, you'd likely be dead now. And I wouldn't have the chance to…"

"To do what?"

She leaned forward and kissed him. "That."

He smiled against her lips, and let his eyes trail down from her face to her throat, to her body sheathed in glistening black. "Well…we've done _that _before…"

She chuckled and rose to her feet, smoothing a hand through his hair. "And we'll do that again. That is, of course, if you decided I'm not a tourist anymore…"

His brow wrinkled and he rose to stand before her. "Lal…don't do this to prove anything to me…When I said that…I was just upset…I…"

She laid her fingers over his mouth and smiled lushly. "I'm not doing it to prove anything to you, flyboy."

"Alright…fair enough. But why are you doing this, Lal?"

She wrapped her arms around herself and shrugged her shoulders. She glanced out the windshield at the maze of canyons waiting for her. "Whatever is out there, Carth, it's another piece of who I really am. Not the miserable woman who kills people and whores herself out for a piece of scum."

"And does this mean Lal's…_out of the business_?"

She grinned playfully and squeezed his hand. "Out of the business? Who knows? But at least, when I know myself…who I am _really_…well, maybe I'll be able to make an informed choice."


	15. Chapter 12

12: Juhani

She awoke from a feral nightmare, filled with savage growls, and gnashing fangs, of claws tearing forth from tender fingertips and rending innocent flesh. The scent of fear filled her nose with its briny lure, and she realized it was her own. _A Jedi does not fear_!

Her yellow eyes flashed open and her slitted pupils drank light from the darkness desperately. A growl rumbled at the back of her throat, and she glanced around furiously, seeking the enemies from her nightmares, the prey from her ancestral memories, now given faces she remembered all too well.

But all she found were the trees.

Twisted gnarled trunks writhing upwards around her, like bars in some vast arboreal cage, penning her in no matter where she turned. The sparse dusting of silver fur on her pale flesh bristled and she yowled an animal cry of helpless rage.

Juhani could feel her rational mind slipping further and further away. She tried to hold onto it desperately, but the tighter she held, the more it flowed through her fingers. Tears ran freely down her cheeks, and she hurled herself into a run, ripping away the ground beneath her naked feet. She blazed a blind path through the knotted trees, seeking a release from the eternal twilight that clung in the air. But every path she took was the same. She felt as if she had run for months, never finding an exit from the prison of trees, never finding the path home.

But she had no home. Not anymore. Beasts had no home beyond the wilderness. They didn't deserve to walk as men did, and to know the warmth of love. She collapsed to her knees with a moan and glanced down at her robes, now torn to ragged shreds. She was a beast, an animal; beasts did not wear the clothes of men.

_Didn't deserve! Didn't need!_

She unsheathed the slender claws from her fingertips and ripped at her clothing with a snarl. She bared her flesh, her fur to the endless half-night around her, tearing at the belt around her narrow waist. Her claws scraped across the metal cylinder hanging on her belt and she paused.

_An elegant tool…refined weapon…_

Her talons closed tightly around it, but her muscles froze. She needed that tool. She would keep that tool. Yes.

_Yes…_

She rose with a sobbing groan and pressed herself against a bent and bowed tree. She buried her scarred face against it and cried. Despair pounded against her shoulders, wracked her chest. There would be no release for Juhani. She was alone and lost in darkness. Trapped in the Grove.

Then, something tickled against the inside of her skull; the animal awareness of prey. Her yellow eyes flashed brightly, and the pungent scent of walking, living meat straightened her spine.

_Not alone…_

Lal's nose wrinkled at the stench of rotting flesh. Bloated corpses of long dead kath hounds lay torn open in the withered brown grass that lay before a stand of twisting, crooked trees. A cold breeze crawled against her skin as she stared into the murky depths between the trunks. It seemed rather a small stand of hunched over trees, cowering and huddling together like frightened old women. But with every step she took towards the Grove, the trees seemed to uncoil and loom over her, as if they grew taller before her.

Lal hesitated as she passed a carcass, and stared down at it. The body bore gouges of moist, dark red, carved into the swollen flesh, around the face, the legs, the ribs; it looked as if something had ripped its throat and belly open…with…teeth. She glanced at the other bodies and saw similar damage, as if…as if the creatures had torn each other to ribbons. Fighting amongst themselves.

And the smell of their old death, like syrup spread thinly over feces, dug into her lungs and trickled into her belly. The longer she stood there, the thicker the stink became. She pressed the back of her hand against her lips and screwed her mouth shut against the gagging that surged up her throat.

Lal staggered forward as her stomach churned. The air seemed cleaner closer to the Grove. She lurched towards the trees and fresh air. A dim part of her mind warned her; told her the stink was driving her towards the entrance to the Grove. But she had no choice. Forward was her mission, her goal. And forward she had to go.

When she finally took the step forward, into the trees, the air shifted and grew still, as if she had pushed through a bubble. The dry reek of dust fluttered into her nose and darkness swallowed her. Lal's blood froze in her veins and she glanced around, looking for some explanation, something to justify the black pall hanging between the twisted trees.

She whirled around, suddenly frantic to leave, but saw behind her a measureless expanse of cracked, withered trees and darkness. She could not see past them, could not see outside of the Grove, even though she had only taken a single step inside. Lal made a desperate dash towards what _had_ to be the exit, but she only crashed through murky darkness, and nearly tripped over a thick cluster of roots thrusting up from the caked soil.

She dropped to one knee, and suddenly felt a wave of pressure gusting down against her back. Instinct twisted her body, and a pale shape blistered down towards her with a snarl. Fire burned along Lal's bicep and she fell backwards, thrusting herself away from the attack. Rolling backwards onto her feet, she caught a glimpse of bright yellow eyes. Her lightsaber leaped into her hand and she ignited a single blade.

In the pale lavender glow, she saw a feral creature crouched on all fours, snarling at her. Lal thrust forward with her weapon, but the creature dashed backwards in a flash of silver. It leaped upwards and ricocheted from tree to tree in a white blur. Lal tried to follow the creature's path, but lost it in the darkness.

She stood there for a moment, realizing the beast had just completely eluded her. She hadn't even gotten a good look at it. Lal glanced down to the wound on her arm and saw four red lines carved into her suit and flesh.

"What was that thing?" she gasped, closing down her lightsaber.

_"Enemy…"_

Lal whipped around and looked up to see the shadow from the previous night, towering above her. Its body was stretched absurdly long, and its arms coursed out to either side like ribbons fluttering in a stiff wind. Its body bent sharply in several places, curling its head down towards Lal.

_"It wants only to kill you."_

"Of course," Lal groaned. "I'm not playing your game, ghost. How do I get out of this place?"

"_Death is the only release. Your only path from this place will be painted with blood. Only your rage will free you…"_

"Rage…? Oh…I believe I understand…I have to _kill_ this thing in order to get out, don't I? But…but that's what _you _want, isn't it?"

_"There is no want…only desire…"_

"Quite. I've heard that before. Well, I've no intention of playing your game, creature!"

_"Defiance. Rebellion. These things define you. You will rage. You will kill."_

"No. I won't. Not until you tell me what you are."

"_What…I…am? I…I don't remember…I…I…hunger! Release! Freedom! Death!"_

The shadow splintered apart before her eyes and exploded in a thousand droplets spraying into the air. Lal covered her eyes and dropped to one knee. When she glanced around, the shadow was utterly gone. She spun about, looking for it, but saw only the crooked trees.

And the white-bodied animal, nestled in the arm of a tree before her. Lal gasped and dodged aside as the thing pounced. It landed beside her and sprang back into the air, lunging out with its claws. Lal hurled herself backwards into a handspring. Her feet flipped up beneath her and caught the creature's chin, hammering it backwards.

It hit the ground hard and sprawled in a loose tangle of white limbs. Lal peered down at it and gasped. At first glance, it seemed to be a half naked woman, clad only in tattered, soiled rags. Her skin was almost completely white, and was frosted with a thin layer of…fur. Dark stripes slashes across her fur, streaking delicately down her cheeks and brow; across her lean, muscular belly and her lanky thighs. A wild nest of silver hair splashed around her head on the ground, framing her face in a manner that Lal found…familiar.

A lightsaber hung from the alien woman's belt.

The woman's eyes flashed open, shedding a dim yellow luminescence; eyeshine, drinking up the ambient light. Her lips peeled back across slender, needle-like fangs and she hissed.

"Wait!" Lal whispered, holding her hands out defensively. "I won't hurt you! You're a Jedi…"

The woman popped up into a crouch and gazed at Lal in confusion. Her yellow eyes flickered to the lightsaber in Lal's hand, and then down to the one hanging from her own ragged belt. "Jedi?" she snarled, cocking her head to the side.

"Yes…a Jedi! That's what you are!" The woman had to be a Cathar, a race of near-humans evolved from massive, predatory felines. She'd only seen one, once on Taris, forced to fight in the Arena, but she knew of them; hunted almost to extinction by the Mandalorians, enslaved by the Hutts…But this one…this one…

"You have a name?" Lal hissed softly.

"Name?"

"Yes, a name! We all have names. Don't you remember your name? My name is…is Lal."

The Cathar woman rose, and Lal saw that she was really little more than a girl. Barely much older than Mission. The Cathar glanced around nervously and her slender hands absently covered her nakedness.

"M-my n-name is…Juhani…I think…I…this must be a dream…I've been dreaming…"

"Juhani!" Lal gasped, remembering the alien child from her dreams. She suddenly saw a clear picture in her mind; the girl, a slave of Tanka the Hutt…Revan freeing her. "Juhani! I can't believe this…it's almost as if…my dreaming led me to you!"

"How did I get here?" Juhani asked in a trembling voice thick and heavy with the snarling accent of the Cathar tongue. She frowned as she gazed at Lal.

"I don't honestly know, but my suspicion is that we're here to amuse the Shadow…"

"Shadow?"

Lal nodded, glancing around warily. "That…that black shape…it's somehow the cause of all of this, I believe."

"The cause…" Juhani muttered, staring blankly into the darkness. Her face slowly twisted, and fury sketched the soft lines of her features in sharpened contrast. Her eyes seemed to glow with anger and she returned her gaze to Lal's face. "What do you know of the cause?" Juhani demanded. "They sent you didn't they? To kill me! To destroy the monster! This must be all your doing!"

"Hold on…"

"Well, I won't go so easily, human!" Juhani thrust her palm at Lal and screamed. Lal felt an invisible hammer slam into her chest, hurling her backwards through the air.

She gasped as a hard wind ripped through her hair, but gathered her thoughts enough to collapse into a ball. Her feet scraped into the ground and she leaned forward, skidding backwards at least ten feet. She came to a halt in a three-point crouch, and saw Juhani charging her. The Cathar held her lightsaber up above her head, igniting a blue spear of light from the hilt.

"Bloody hell…" Lal groaned, igniting her own weapon. She lifted her blade to meet Juhani's and a shower of light splashed forth from the clashing lightsabers. Juhani's face was a mask of rage as she pressed down against Lal's blade. Their lightsabers spat and hissed and snarled, and Lal pivoted to her right, letting Juhani stagger forward with no blade to resist her.

Lal danced around behind Juhani and kicked the back of the Cathar's knee. Juhani dropped and Lal stepped forward to slide her lightsaber against the side of her neck. Juhani froze and her eyes rolled down to see the lavender glare of Lal's weapon.

"I'm not here to kill you, Juhani," Lal began. "This thing has done something to you…"

"No," Juhani hissed tightly, clenching her teeth together. "You don't know! I'm a monster! Not fit to walk in the light! This is my prison!"

"What are you going on about?" Lal cried. "This Shadow has made you mad…"

"No! I killed her! _I_ did! I lost control…I killed her…"

"Killed who, Juhani?"

"Stop calling me that!" Juhani suddenly leaned forward and kicked back, shoving her heel into Lal's pelvis.

Lal staggered back and Juhani spun around, her lightsaber cutting in a low arc towards Lal's legs. Lal hopped back out of range and Juhani leaped to her feet and charged again. This time, she whirled her blade before her in a series of arcs and pinwheels, driving Lal backwards.

"All I am is a beast!" Juhani cried, spinning her lightsaber furiously at Lal's face and arms. "A monster!" She backed Lal against a tree and stabbed towards her chest with a roar. Lal pivoted out of the way and Juhani's blade burned deeply into the tree bole. Lal maneuvered behind the Cathar and slammed her elbow into the back of Juhani's skull.

Lal's momentum spun her body around in a circle and she hurled her knee into Juhani's kidney. Juhani cried out in pain and Lal reached her free hand around the Cathar's head to grasp her forehead. She then took a wide step straight back, dragging Juhani with her, head first. She slapped Juhani's body down hard against the ground and straddled the stunned woman. Lal dropped down, jamming her knee across Juhani's throat. Her other knee crashed down on Juhani's forearm, pinning her weapon to the ground.

"Juhani," Lal growled as the Cathar struggled uselessly beneath her, "I really have no idea what you're talking about, but just listen. Please…"

"I killed my master!" Juhani wailed, closing her eyes. "I lost control of myself…I lashed out…in anger…and now she's dead! If you kill me, it means I am not fit to live…but…if I kill you…then destiny has chosen the path of the Dark Side…And I _will_ walk it!"

"Why can't I just get a single straight answer…?" Lal sighed as Juhani glared wildly up at her, snarling and drooling like the beast she claimed to be, straining to wrench herself free.

_Free…? Freedom…hunger…_Lal tried then to remember the spirit's words. Slowly, she started piecing together a thought. "It's…it's feeding off of you…feeding off of your anger…your rage…your pain…your fear. It's using you to try and…to try and escape…maybe?" Another thought formed, freezing inside her skull like a dagger of ice. "And it's using me, too…lured me here…It wants us to fight! Survival of the fittest…whoever survives…it wants to have a body to move around in!"

_"So long have I been imprisoned,"_ the Shadow hissed. Lal and Juhani both jerked around to see it, hovering behind them. _"Your passion…growing stronger, it feeds me…my memories…"_

Lal rolled forward off of Juhani and rose to her feet. She twisted her lightsaber apart into two weapons, instinctively reversing the grip of the left blade. The shadow appeared to have gained more of a static shape. No longer did it billow and flutter like a set of rags. Now, Lal could just barely make out a shape, tall and impossibly lean, with arms like spears. Its head stretched up and tapered into a vague cone, and Lal saw fingers like curved blades flexing anxiously.

"_I must feed upon you, your anger…the darkness in both bodies…I will have my freedom!"_

Juhani's rage sobered as she slowly rose. Her eyes gazed upon the thing in unreasoning terror. "What is it? Why do you torment me, creature? Tell me!"

"Juhani!" Lal cried out, "it wants your anger…It wants to…to make you a slave…once more!"

"No!" Juhani hissed. "I am free! I will be no one's slave! I'll destroy you, first!"

"Juhani! No! It…there…there…is…no emotion…"

Juhani paused and glanced back at Lal. Confusion shoved the rage on her face aside, and her lips began moving soundlessly.

Lal had no idea where the words had come from. But they continued to slip free of her throat. "There is no emotion!"

"Th-there is peace," Juhani added. She lowered her lightsaber, and a sheet of calm rippled across her features.

"There…is no ignorance," Lal went on.

"There is…knowledge," Juhani followed.

"There is no passion…"

"There is serenity," Juhani said, her voice growing softer.

"There is no chaos…"

"There is…there is harmony." Juhani's eyes slid shut.

"There is no death…"

"There is…the Force." Juhani's eyes snapped open, her madness gone. She glanced at Lal with the same wide yellow eyes of that child she'd been on Taris. Lal walked over to stand beside the younger woman and nodded.

"You have no power over us, ghost," Lal said to the Shadow. "Within ourselves," Lal went on, speaking the words with an alien, unfamiliar confidence, "we are luminous beings. We are Jedi."

_"Jedi…"_ the Shadow fell away from them, bleeding slowly away into the surrounding darkness. It drained into the black air, drifting into nothingness. "Freedom," was the last word it hissed before its voice became nothing more than breeze.

Lal and Juhani stood there several minutes more, staring into the cool night air for any remaining trace of the Shadow. But it had gone. Juhani suddenly fell to her knees, crying. She pressed her hands to her face and sobbed.

"My dear Master…my friend…she's gone…and I did this to her…"

Lal knelt beside Juhani and slid her arm around her shoulders. She hugged the young Cathar to her and felt Juhani's body shudder with tears.

"I can never make up for this crime!" Juhani gasped. "Look what I've become!"

"Shhh. Whatever happened her, Juhani…it's over now, I think…"

"Who are you, Master Jedi? Why did you come here? To save me?"

"I'm no master…I…I don't know what I am, to be honest. But I do know this, Juhani: people can change. Mistakes…do not define you…It's the choices we make. Come. Let's get you up. We still have to get out of here."

Lal helped Juhani to her feet and glanced around at the trees huddling wearily over them. Lal gasped sharply when she saw only a handful of trees clustered around them. She could see the grasslands beyond, bathed in moonlight, she could see the distant white walls of canyons. The Grove they stood in couldn't have been more than a few meters square; just a modest stand of old worn out trees.

"I don't believe it," Lal murmured, stepping out of the Grove. She turned and looked back at it. "It…it was like…an entire forest…"

Juhani merely trembled in the cold wind, trying to cover her nakedness. Lal wished she had a blanket or a cloak for the young Cathar, and could only hug her tightly to share body heat. Neither of them could explain the mystery of the Grove, and perhaps it wasn't productive to even dwell on it. Juhani's feral madness seemed to have completely disappeared as soon as the Shadow realized they would no longer be its pawns, and Lal didn't want to tempt fate by dwelling on the matter.

But she knew what she had seen, and what she had felt…an entire forest now reduced to a mere scrap of trees. The power of that spirit had been indeed great to alter Lal's perceptions so fully. If that was indeed what had happened. Maybe it had actually changed reality for a brief moment in time. An odd thought flickered inside her mind; _what if they had been inside the Shadow, literally inside it, the entire time? What if that drama had simply played out in the arena of their minds? A consensual hallucination…_

Whatever the truth was, Lal was certain of what she had experienced, what she had encountered…her first brush up against the power of the Dark Side…


	16. Chapter 13

13: The Stillness of Mind

They arrived back at the Jedi Enclave the next afternoon. Bastila waited for them in the vast vehicle bay as Carth parked their rented Sorosuub. Lal caught sight of her sister as she and Mission guided a weak-kneed Juhani out of the speeder. The Cathar Jedi was wrapped in a silver thermal blanket to cover her nudity, and she was still a bit confused from her ordeal.

Canderous hopped down off the top of the speeder and propped his heavy rifle on his shoulder. He threw a pointed glance at Bastila and then held Lal's gaze for a moment before he left the hangar. Though he said nothing, his message was clear enough to Lal. He didn't trust Bastila, or any of the Jedi, and he expected Lal to be mindful of his warning.

Zaalbar stepped out of the speeder next, ducking low to pass through the hatch. With a howl, he hefted a sack containing AyVee's components. He'd had some success in repairing some of AyVee's parts, but didn't have the tools on hand to reassemble the droid. If he couldn't find what he needed on the _Hawk_, Lal was thinking about taking the droid to Crattis, to see what he could do. In a rumbling growl, Zaalbar grudgingly promised Lal he'd do his best. Lal smiled at the Wookiee and reached into the sack to give AyVee's head a pat. He was such a useful little thing, and she was already missing him. But still, he seemed to annoy the hell out of Zaalbar, and she couldn't quite figure out why Zaalbar was so willing to fix the droid. Zaalbar looked from Lal to Bastila and back again, and then chucked Mission's shoulder. He tossed a thumb at the exit and roared.

"Huh?" Mission grunted back. "Oh yeah…well, let me get my rifle and we can scoot." Mission dashed back inside the speeder, bumping into Carth as he stepped out. Mission sighed dramatically at him and disappeared inside.

Carth rolled his eyes at the Twi'lek and moved up beside Lal. She couldn't help but notice how close he stood to her shoulder; almost protectively. Lal smiled and felt her insides warm up.

"I'm glad to see you're unharmed, Lal," Bastila said, her voice cool and placid. She spoke with the same stilted distance she'd had in her voice when they first met back on Taris. For a tiny moment, Lal almost forgot this was her sister standing before her. Lal cocked her head at Bastila, but the young Jedi ignored the question in her sister's eyes.

Lal decided not to press it. She had other matters on her mind. "Juhani probably needs looking at by a doctor," she told Bastila.

Bastila frowned up at the lean Cathar and nodded after a moment. "The Jedi will deal with her," Bastila said. "But they wish to speak with you, Lal."

"Something told me they wouldn't give me a chance to shower," Lal sighed. "No matter. For once, I want to speak with _them _as well."

"I'm going with you two," Carth announced, arching an eyebrow at Bastila. "It's about time I got some answers around here."

"I'm afraid not, Carth," Bastila said. "This is a Jedi matter."

"Sure. Right. Listen, Bastila, I've been involved in one too many _Jedi matters_ for you to just give me the brush-off. Either you take me to see the Council, or I'm heading back to Coruscant."

"Carth," Lal said, turning to lay her hand on his chest. She stared up into his eyes as she spoke. "Please be patient? As a favor to me? Just a little while longer?"

Carth scowled and glanced away from her. He balled his fists on his hips but gave her a curt nod. Lal stretched up to place a swift kiss on his mouth. She smiled and patted his unshaven cheek.

"Alright, Basi. Let's go and have a chat with the Council."

"Chairs," Lal said absently as she and Bastila stood before the Council. She glanced around the broad circular chamber and nodded once. "That's what this room needs. Chairs."

"I have often thought the same," Master Zhar chuckled. "It's good to see you well, Lal."

"Indeed," Master Vandar nodded, squinting up at Lal, "and intact."

Vrook said nothing; he simply folded his arms across his chest and looked down at Lal with his customary glare. Dorak sat in an adjoining chamber, bent over a library computer station.

"Lal, you have succeeded in returning Juhani," Zhar said, "whom we had thought lost. We have sensed a shift in the Force, like a great pall lifting. I trust you were successful."

"I don't really know," Lal shrugged. "And I'm not really here to chit-chat, I'm afraid. I have some questions, and I was promised answers."

"Again," Vrook hissed, "you take it upon yourself to make demands of this body…"

"Well, given the demands you've made on _my_ body," Lal chuckled, "I think it's quite reasonable. For some time now, I've had the sense that none of you are telling me the entire truth. Every time I've been brought before you, you've revealed some new little tidbit, as if you're afraid I won't be able to take it in a single dose. If we're going to be working together, then it's time you told me all that you know about me."

Zhar glanced down at Vandar, and then over at Vrook. "What would you like to know?" Zhar asked. As he spoke, Master Dorak rose from his computer and joined them.

"Why am I dreaming of Revan and Malak? Why am I seeing their…their memories?"

"Awakening your own memories are," Vandar said. "And expanding your senses are, as well. Hmm."

"No," Lal shook her head. "No. I was having odd dreams like this before any of this happened…"

"It's not exactly uncommon for a Jedi to see companions and associates in their dreams," Vrook replied.

"Hmm," Vandar nodded. "Uncommon it is not. Lead you on the crusade against the Mandalorians Revan did. And foremost in your thoughts are they both. But…correct you are, Lal. A reason there is for your dreams. Recently, discovered we did ancient ruins on the surface of Dantooine. There did Revan and Malak discover…_something_."

"'Something'?" Lal repeated.

"Kept it a secret they did," Vandar went on. "Even now, know we do not what they found."

"Master Nemo was sent to investigate these ruins," Vrook said, "but we've had no word from him. "

"Lal," Dorak began to explain, "long ago, there was a race of beings that lived on Dantooine. We've been discovering their artifacts and burial chambers for years. Archeological studies and deep resonance imaging have shown there to be ancient structures below ground. Complex structures, I might add…requiring sophisticated engineering skills the natives simply didn't have. It's truly a fascinating little mystery…"

"What Master Dorak is trying to say, Lal," Zhar interrupted with a soft chuckle, "is that some ancient culture likely built these places to house the natives. Revan found one of these chambers. We believe they used this chamber to hide from us. But after analyzing the vision…the dream, as you call it…that you and Bastila both shared, we think the two of them found something there. Something very dangerous and ancient."

Lal suddenly found herself thinking about the Shadow. Malak had spoken in her dream of a dark presence…perhaps the two of them had inadvertently released something…

Vandar stared curiously up at her. "Hmm. Had a thought, you did, hmm?"

I…" she frowned down at the diminutive Jedi master. "Well…the…the _thing_ responsible for the kath hound attacks…It was some sort of dark…ghost…It spoke of freedom…like it had been released. It had turned Juhani into a feral beast almost."

"Hmm," Vandar nodded. "Emanation of the Dark Side was this being. A ghost it was not."

"Lal, when beings strong in the Force perish," Zhar told her, "they sometimes leave a…a trace of themselves behind. An energy pattern trapped in the Force. A shadow, if you will. Driven by a long dead will, by memory…with an ability to direct the energies of the Force on a rudimentary level. For one strong in the Dark Side…cruel ambitions and desires become almost like…_spiritual programming_. These things can be dangerous to the living. Especially to a Jedi who has fallen to the Dark Side. The passions and madness of the Dark Side are like meat and drink to these Shadows. Juhani was particularly vulnerable in all likelihood. And because of the things you did on Taris as an assassin, Lal…you were vulnerable as well."

"Is that why you sent me after it? To see if I would fail?"

"No, Lal," Zhar sighed. "All Jedi must learn to resist the lure of the Dark Side. Without quite knowing or understanding it, you have been exposed to the Dark Side for the past three years. It was determined that if you could resist the pull of the Dark Side…then…"

"Then possess the necessary discipline you would, Lal," Vandar said, finishing Zhar's thought.

"Necessary discipline?" Lal asked incredulously. "For what? To bloody challenge Malak to some sort of…duel? Is that what this is all building up to? While I can certainly appreciate the concept of cutting off the serpent's head, Darth Malak has a fleet, which everyone says is fairly well unstoppable. Getting past that fleet to fight him would be tantamount to suicide. Besides which…I don't do wetwork anymore…"

Vandar frowned and glanced over his shoulder up at Dorak. "Hmm. What does it mean, '_wetwork_'?"

"Ah. Curious etymology of the word," Dorak brightened, holding up his finger. "Originally, obscure military jargon used to refer to any sort of clandestine violence; it became mainstreamed due to popular fiction and various lurid holonet crime dramas, such as--"

"Ah, assassination," Vandar said quickly, before Dorak could go off on a tangent. "Understand, do I. But wrong you are, Lal. Not in the business of…_wetwork_ are the Jedi."

"No?" Lal asked. "But didn't you send my little sister to destroy Darth Revan?"

"Bastila…and others…were sent to stop Revan," Vrook said with a growl, "but killing was always a last resort. And besides, Bastila didn't kill Revan. Malak did."

As Vrook spoke those last words, Lal felt a sharp tinge of anger and sadness erupt from Bastila. Lal turned and saw her sister's brow creased sharply in thought. Or perhaps remembered pain. Bastila noticed Lal's scrutiny and smiled tightly. The emotions she was broadcasting suddenly closed down. Lal continued to stare at Bastila as silence gripped the Council chamber. Basi clearly had a problem with Vrook's accounting of events.

And that meant Lal did too.

But she wouldn't press it just yet, she decided, folding her arms across her breasts. "Alright. Assassination is out. What's left?"

"Perhaps, pose to you, the question we should…?" Vandar suggested, a sly twinkle in his bright green eyes. "To defeat a seemingly unstoppable enemy, what would you do?"

"In theory? Well, that's simple. Find out what it is that makes him so unstoppable, and then remove that advantage. Or make it into a disadvantage. But theory is always simple, isn't it? It's the _doing_ which is hard."

"Hmm. Very good. Very good, Lal. And correct you are. Difficult it is to _do._ Yes. Hmm. But, undertake a task, a Jedi does not do, simply because easy it is. Not always easy is expediency. Or simple."

"So, you don't want me to kill Malak for you. What do you want, then?"

"To investigate these ruins, we want," Vandar told her. "And do this, we feel _you_ must. You and your sister. Revealed to you a destiny the Force has. The visions have you had. And Bastila. Tied are you together, very strongly. Go to the ruins, you must, and learn whatever it is that Revan and Malak did."

"Lal," Bastila said, "I'm almost certain that Revan and Malak found something in those ruins we dreamed…something which gave them the advantage in this conflict. I'm also certain that the experience will help jog your own memories…"

"An irresponsible claim to make, young Padawan," Vrook scolded Bastila.

"Which part?" Lal asked, lifting her chin defiantly. "The part about the advantage, or the part about my memories?"

Vrook glanced at Lal and narrowed his eyes into chips of granite. "There may literally be nothing we…or anyone…can do to restore your memories, Lal. They will most likely…return given sufficient time. Or they may never return. In any event, recovering your memories is not a priority here. You've already…_proven_ that you don't need them to succeed. Your body remembers what your mind doesn't."

"I see," Lal murmured, dubious of Vrook's words. "So, what are you telling me, then? That I'm a Jedi again? Just like that?"

Vrook snorted. "Being a Jedi is a bit more than back-flips and mind tricks. But you seem to have the skills necessary to survive. To be fully honest, it's likely you never lost those skills. The…_lifestyle_ you were forced into on Taris is certainly an unforgiving one. That you survived, and even excelled for three years is an obvious testament to your ability to manipulate the energies of the Force."

"Dangerous this is, Lal," Vandar added. "But lucky have you been. No concept did you have of your use of the Force. Accordingly, less vulnerable to the Dark Side were you. Ironic, it is. Known what you were doing, had you, a slave to the Dark Side you would have become. Contradicts our teaching though it does, in this case, benefited you, ignorance has."

"There is no ignorance," Lal recited, recalling the words that sprang to her lips with Juhani in the grove. "There is knowledge…"

"Hmm," Vandar grunted with a nod. "Yes."

"Is that what happened to Juhani?" Lal asked. "She fell…knowingly to the Dark Side or some such?"

"Succumbed to a moment of anger did Juhani," Vander explained. "Blinded her to her lessons it did. To reality. Unfortunate occurrence it is."

"Juhani's people are a race of warriors, Lal," Zhar said. "They are still a fairly…primitive people, and they are known for their savagery in combat. Some of them can enter a sort of _ecstasy_ in combat, a berserk rage, if you will. Much like their ancient warrior ancestors. This has happened before with Cathar Jedi. But Juhani is strong. Her people also have meditative traditions designed long ago to wrest them from their battle rages. May I ask why you are so concerned with Juhani?"

Lal was concerned mainly because she felt she knew what Juhani was going through. Passing through a confused storm of darkness, buffeted by dangers and temptations beyond her control. But the Jedi Masters certainly didn't need to know this. Instead, Lal simply said, "I helped her escape from that Shadow's clutches. Of course I would be concerned with her condition. And what will happen to her."

Vandar nodded sagely and shared a smile with Zhar. He also threw a pointed stare in Vrook's direction. "Compassion. A virtue it is. And essential to a Jedi."

"Indeed," Vrook shrugged. "It's also what drove Revan to fight the Mandalorians. We must never forget that, Masters. No one here needs to be reminded that Lal followed along that path."

"The past is the past, Lamar," Zhar sighed. "We must remain cognizant of it, but we must not focus on it to the point of distraction from the present."

Vrook inclined his head. "I bow to the wisdom of my esteemed colleague. Of course."

"So," Lal frowned, "That's why you're all so close-lipped. You're afraid that if I regain my memories, that I'll simply revert to my old ways. Either that, or I'll simply return to my behavior while on Taris and become…seduced by the Dark Side…"

"Lal," Vandar began, "succumb to the Dark Side do even the most experienced and dedicated of Jedi. Always a danger it is. But, the lesson you learned with Juhani; always the possibility of redemption there is. If pursued by the fallen it is. A truth that is, which also must not be…must _never_ be forgotten."

"I…" Lal fumbled for words in the face of what Vandar had just said. She hadn't expected that from the Jedi. She had suspected that they were using her because she was an expendable asset. And maybe there was some truth in that. But if Master Vandar actually believed what he was saying…

The implications pounded into her heart and lodged there. She couldn't explain it, but his words had lifted a weight of burdensome mistrust from her thoughts. They were using her, but perhaps they were also laying within her their hopes and wishes. Perhaps, _hope_ that she would…would return to them.

Lal turned away from such thoughts. They distracted her. They were too intangible. The galaxy had taught her to rely upon more solid truths than the idealistic possibilities in the heart of man. But still, it was a comforting thought…

"Tell me about a woman named Sideen," she said abruptly, surprising them all.

"Sideen Ralli," Zhar mused, his eyes wrinkling at the corners. "Yes. We were…surprised to learn you had taken her name. But it also gave us hope that you remembered something of your true life. Did you dream of her as well, Lal?"

Lal frowned in thought. She could not remember having actively taken any sort of name…that was simply the name Davik had told her _was_ her own. "Yes. I dreamed of Sideen. On Taris."

"Yes," Zhar nodded, lowering his eyes. "She was a good friend. Both of you were stationed on Taris before the onset of the Mandalorian conflict."

"Was I her…_Padawan_…or something along those lines?"

"No, Lal," Zhar shook his head. "You were not a Padawan at that point in time. You were a Knight. A very powerful one. No, you and Sideen Ralli were simply…very good friends. I…I trust Bastila told you what Malak and Revan did to the Jedi who had followed them in the War?"

Lal remembered back to their discussion on the Hawk, traveling to Dantooine. "When they turned, they hunted the others down. To keep them from being a threat."

Zhar nodded. "Many of the Jedi returned to the order. They sought redemption, and most received it. Because of their loyalty to the Jedi order, these Knights now posed a threat to Revan and Malak, and their dark plans. Of course, others remained loyal to Revan. Like Bandon. When you were returned to us…you were in…a highly non-responsive state. We have no idea what horrors you experienced to shut you off so completely from the world, but you were…you seemed completely gone. Sideen took it upon herself to take care of you. She was alone when Bandon came for her. He had assistance, of course. Dark Jedi now devoted to the ways of the Sith, as he and his masters were. She…she did not survive. And you were left vulnerable."

"Wh-what happened?"

"Well," Zhar continued, "in a tragically bizarre turn of events, Davik Kang chose that moment to abduct you. Whether he knew about Bandon's actions or not…it's impossible to know."

Lal's shoulders fell as his words chewed into her. Davik still could reach out to grasp her in his claws, even from beyond the grave. With every new thing she learned, his grip squeezed. She could almost hear him laughing in her head.

"Obviously," Vrook said, "Davik Kang must have taken a composite of yours and Sideen's names. He had ample opportunity to know both of you from your time on Taris."

Lal nodded automatically. "He had ample opportunity to know both of us from our time on Taris…" That was, of course, logical. It had to be the truth. It fit with all the facts she had been told up until now, but…

_It's too convenient,_ a voice whispered in her head. And as she thought about this, she realized that Vrook's words had filled her head with smoke, like wisps of cotton pushing against her thoughts; clinging to them. _Mind tricks_, she realized suddenly. But as soon as she recognized it, she killed the thought, stuffed it deep down inside of her so they couldn't sense it.

Vrook had just lied to her. And to drive that lie home, he had wrapped it around a Jedi trick. _Why would he do that? Why would he try to convince me of something that they had already admitted to be speculation_? Lal looked up and saw Vandar glaring angrily at Vrook. Vrook ignored the small Jedi Master and just stared impassively at Lal with his arms folded upon his chest.

"I suppose that must be it," Lal finally said, shrouding her suspicion. "You know, _Masters,_ it seems every time I speak with you, I'm forced to go on some dangerous task immediately afterwards…A girl might start to think she's not loved…"

Vrook frowned in confusion and glanced away with a shrug. Vandar actually chuckled. "Lal, return to your quarters you will. To rest. In the morning should you begin."

"I'd rather go to my house," Lal said, adding a sweet smile.

"Hmm. Of course."

Lal gave a tiny nod of her head and spun on her heel to leave. Bastila fell in beside her and they headed towards the corridor that led to the upper level of the Enclave.

"Lal," Zhar called, "a word, please, before you leave." He tugged his heavy brown robe closed and drifted over to join her.

"I'll go and rent a speeder," Bastila said and walked on ahead.

Zhar smiled at Lal and glanced over his shoulder at the other Council members. Lal followed his gaze and saw Vrook staring intently at both of them, while Dorak and Vandar engaged in a whispered conversation.

"Do they just stay like that?" Lal asked as she and Zhar began walking.

"Like what?"

"Well, every time I've seen the Council you're all standing about looking dreadfully serene. I certainly don't think I could be on the Council…not without some bloody comfortable chairs…"

Zhar chuckled. "Comfortable chairs are a rarity in the Enclave. Truth be told, neither Vandar nor Vrook would hear anything of it. Master Vandar finds it inconvenient to sit in a chair in which his legs must dangle over the edge like a child's. Lamar simply despises the idea of comfort, I think…"

"Indeed," Lal agreed. "I can well imagine…"

Slowly, the two of them walked through the corridors of the Enclave, and Lal felt the warmth of a distant old familiarity, slipping over her like a cloak. Zhar's presence at her side…comforting, always close…She turned suddenly to him, a frown struggling upon her face. "Were we…we were close…?"

Zhar's smooth green face brightened in a smile. The lekku draped about his shoulders twitched in a Twi'lek show of acknowledgement. "Indeed Lal. I had…it was my sincere hope that you would sense this. That you would remember. Years ago, you were my Padawan Learner. More than twenty years past…" Softly, he chuckled, his eyes focusing on memories she could not see. "At the time," he went on, "I was a young Knight…full of fire and vigor. Eager to…ah…adventure. Master Vandar felt I needed to learn the lesson of patience. As such, he introduced me to a brash little girl who had been brought into his office with a bloodied lip and bruised knuckles." He turned a smiling glance at her. "You, Lal. Apparently, you had gotten into another fight with one or another of the children at the Enclave. I believe you had just punched a bully. Punched him repeatedly, as I recall…At any rate, I took on the task with a bit of dismay. As I said, I was eager to get out into the galaxy. To use the talents I had been given to…fight injustice and wickedness. Watching over a child was not my idea of adventure. But training you taught me the one thing my Master could not; patience."

Lal stopped beside him as they entered the broad, circular courtyard of the Enclave. The sun streamed down into the chamber, splashing them both with hazy, soft light. "I grew up with you, didn't I?" Lal asked him in a tiny voice.

"Do you remember?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

She searched her mind for the memories, to recall something other than the brassy towers and trackless shadows of Taris. After a moment, she shook her head. "I don't remember…But…but I _can_ feel it…I…I remember the feelings…"

He nodded with a smile. "Yes. As you did when our eyes met when you arrived here a few days ago."

He reached out to lay a hand on her shoulder, and she recalled the familiarity of that as well. She glanced down at his hand, mistrusting the contact for only the briefest of moments. A dark part of her, still mired in the sprawl of Taris's sins, wondered what other contacts he had enjoyed. But the feelings stirred by his words spoke only of the innocence of…of friendship. Never had he taken advantage of her as Davik had. Never had he seen her as an object, a tool to be used. Her eyes threatened to flood with wet heat as she stared at him, and she realized her thoughts were wide open to him.

"Yes," he nodded, responding to her opened mind, "Davik Kang put you through…quite a bit. These things anger me a great deal…To think what he took from you…it pains me."

"I…he…when I…" she struggled to find the words; her lips stumbled over them. She finally released a great sigh and blinked away her tears before they could fall. "I am not exactly accustomed to trusting anyone."

He smiled sadly at her and cupped her cheek. "I suppose not. This is all very new for you. If I tell you that you were my most promising and dear student, it is second nature for you to then mistrust my motives, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry, Master Zhar…"

"Do not be. It cannot be avoided, I suppose. But do know, Lal, that while I taught you much of what you know, you also taught me the one thing I never learned. Patience. Patience is one of the greatest gifts a Jedi possesses. The ability to find a moment of stillness within the whirlwind of battle…to think with the Still Mind, to discern the proper path. This is the wisdom you gave me. Do you understand?"

"I…I don't…"

He sighed and nodded, lowering his hand. "You are understandably eager, right now. Anxious…in your impatience to learn the truth of your past. There is great conflict within you. Find the moments of calm within the whirlwind, Lal. Find the Still Mind. And when you do, nothing will be hidden from you. I believe already, the Still Mind has served you. With Juhani. It will be one of your greatest tools."

"Master Zhar, I…"

He shook his head gently and lifted a finger. "Do not worry on it too much now. Go and prepare yourself and your friends. They will become powerful allies in this thing before you. Before us all. We will speak again, Lal."

Inexplicably calmed by his words and his soft voice, even in the thrashing heat of her own confusion and distrust, she simply nodded. A smile worked its way onto her lips. With her eyes, she said her goodbyes to him, and turned to go.


	17. Chapter 14

14: Into the Long Dark

Lal's boots clicked in swift staccato on the gleaming steel of the ramp that lead into the belly of the _Ebon Hawk_. Turning into the central rec chamber, she saw Zaalbar huddled over a coiled heap of milky white cyberoptic cabling, with a fuser clutched in a huge furry paw, throwing up tiny gouts of sparks as he reattached the stripped leads within the cable. Beside him, Mission held up Ay-Vee's sensor module to her eye and peered through it. Zaalbar snapped a curt bark at the Twi'lek and she immediately placed the charred component back down on the table before her, where Ay-Vee's blackened chassis sat and warbled hopelessly.

Lal stopped and drank them in…their scents…their _silhouettes_ in the eddying flows of the Force. Like a hand gently pressing against a sheet of silk, she could feel them, feel the weight of them in the air. Her heart pounded faster as she realized this; a flush of excitement, heating the skin on her cheeks, quickening her pulse. Had she felt this before? Had she always been able to feel them this way? Had she always relied instinctively on this _sense_, never knowing that it was unique to her? Unique to a Jedi Knight? It felt odd; as if she had just been told that she was the only person in the universe with a sense of smell…

She felt herself smiling at them…for no reason. She moved behind Mission and laid her hands on the girl's shoulders. The contact felt good, rich and warm. It felt right.

"Lal," Mission said sourly, "you kinda stink…"

Lal sighed in reply, rousing from her brief reverie of sensation. She chuckled and playfully swatted mission across the back of her skull. "Not as badly as you, smelly-girl. You probably didn't notice because of this great smelly old Carpet sitting beside you, though."

Zaalbar growled out a comment about Wookiees smelling exactly like they were supposed to smell. Then he suggested that they both roll around in some katarn dung to improve their own native scents.

"I don't quite know about that," Lal replied, "but I am dying for a shower. She glanced over at the Fresher adjoining the chamber and frowned. "Not much in the way of privacy, though…"

Zaalbar snorted an offhand comment about Lal's modesty and Mission began giggling. Lal rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Zaalbar, I think you've missed your true calling as a comedian. I didn't know Wookiees had a sense of humor."

Zaalbar grumbled something under his breath, which Lal chose to ignore. She made her way to the Fresher but stopped when she noticed Mission's rifle propped up against the edge of the table. She turned back to look at Mission and said, "You did well out there. I…you did well."

* * *

After luxuriating under the gentle thrum of the sonic shower, Lal put her Slipsuit back on and stepped out of the Fresher to head to the starboard crew berth. She stepped in, thinking to close the door for a bit of privacy to put her hair up, but she felt a familiar gust, like a warm breeze drenched in sunlight. She smiled without turning and sat down on a bunk with her legs crossed. Carth drifted in behind her, leaning on the top bunk as she activated a holo-mirror display to put her hair up. She could see him watching her in the mirror's reflection. She could almost taste the errant thoughts skipping along the surface of his mind.

"Can I help you Captain Onasi?" she asked, teasing him.

He chuckled and shook his head. "You…uh…your hair…looks nice like that. Down, I mean…"

"It's not exactly functional," she told him as she separated her long dark tresses into two thick streams, bundling them slowly into tight buns at the back of her head. "Gets in the way."

"Then why don't you cut it?"

She stared at herself in the mirror, with her hair up and sighed. "Haven't really had much of an opportunity. I used to have it short. I think. I…it feels too long sometimes…I'm always putting it up it seems. But I never cut it…"

He sat down behind her and put his hand on her shoulder. A tingle of excitement rushed through her at his touch and she laid her hand over his. She glanced over her shoulder at him and resisted the urge to brush back the unruly spikes that hung over his brow.

"You could use a shave," she told him.

"I uh…haven't had much of an _opportunity_…"

"I thought you Republic flyboys were all clean shaven and spit-polished sorts."

"Maybe at one point. I guess things change, hmm?"

She lowered her eyes and nodded. She glanced back into the mirror for a moment, and then, pulled the buns free, letting her hair tumble downwards. "I suppose they do."

He leaned towards her, sweeping her hair from her shoulders, back, away from her throat. Where his fingers brushed against her, she tingled, even through the shiny fabric of her Slipsuit. She shifted on the bunk, turning her body into his, leaning towards him, wanting to feel his lips against hers…

But a wall crashed down over his thoughts, and he eased back from her, taking his hand away. A frown briefly shaded her face, and she wondered why he had pulled away. He hadn't resisted her kisses before.

"What is it, Carth?" she asked him softly, taking his hand in both of hers.

"I…"

"You're not still angry with me, are you? I thought we had gotten past that."

"No, Lal," he whispered. "I'm not angry…I'm just…it's just that…"

"You want to know what's going on," she finished for him.

"Well, yes. That would be nice…"

"But there's something else…you're worried about something…"

"Damn, what did you do, go from exotic assassin to Jedi psychologist?"

"Job qualifications are exactly the same. Reading people is one of the requirements of both professions, you know."

"Bastila won't tell me what I need to know. Either she doesn't know, or simply refuses to tell me. The Council is like a wall. And my last orders were pretty much vague as hell. There's a war going on, and I'd like to know when I'm gonna be able to fight it."

"Oh Carth…" she fell silent, wondering what was safe to share with him. Perhaps the Council didn't want her running her mouth, but then again, they hadn't exactly been forthcoming. Looking at Carth's eyes, she knew what is was like to be left alone in the dark. "I…I've been having these odd dreams. Dreams about the Jedi…about Revan and Malak."

"Dreams, huh? Like…visions or something?"

Her cheeks reddened and she nodded. "Probably sounds silly to you…"

"Nothing you could say would ever sound silly to me, Lal."

She glanced up at him hopefully, searching his face. Then he smiled and added, "Well, if you said you were gonna paint your nose red…that would probably sound pretty silly…"

She grinned despite herself and chucked her fist against his shoulder. "If you're going to tease, I simply won't say anything, _Captain Onasi_."

"Of course," he nodded, snapping off a mock salute. "Sorry, ma'am."

"Mmm-hmm. Just don't do it again. I still have contacts you know."

"So I've heard. So, visions. Alright. I know the Jedi are pretty big on visions, but I don't really know too much beyond that."

She folded one leg beneath her and went on, "I don't think I know much more than you except to say that I've had one…er…well, more than one…but it's the one I had about Revan and Malak that has the Council interested."

"Does this have anything to do with that Cathar girl you brought back?"

"Juhani…no. Well…yes. No…not her…rather the…_being_ that I encountered in the Grove. Perhaps indirectly. You see, Master Dorak said that there were these ruins once used by the previous inhabitants of this world…these places resonate strongly in the Force…"

"Okay," he said, "hold on a sec. What exactly does that mean?"

"Oh…I'm not really sure! From what I understand of it, the Force is a…an energy field that surrounds everything…maybe like…imagine yourself floating in a pool of water…if someone else jumps in, the water ripples, and you feel it…"

He nodded. "And the bigger the things that falls into the pool, the stronger the disturbance…ripples spreading further? Damn, Lal, why is it that you are the only person who has ever explained the Force in a way that makes sense?"

"I don't know…I…it just seemed like the best way to describe it…"

Carth stared at her for a moment. "That was something you remembered, wasn't it? From before."

"I guess it must have been…" She brushed a curl of hair from her brow, tucking it behind her ear and shook her head. "Sorry…well, in my dream…vision…whatever it was, I saw Revan and Malak in this, this…_place_. They had found something. I couldn't see it, but it felt like it was…well, terribly important. Maybe dangerous. I think they set that Shadow thing free."

"Intentionally?"

"No…I don't get the sense that they knew about it…they were trying to hide from the Jedi…it was before they fell to the Dark Side. Malak was…he was so…_young_…handsome."

"_Handsome_?" Carth grunted. "The guy wears a mask. He can't be that good-looking…what about Revan? Was he _handsome_ too?"

"He was…I don't know…I couldn't see him very well I don't think…"

"Figures," Carth snorted sourly, "piece of filth was probably wearing a mask back then too."

"Carth…that's not…that…I mean…they had broken from the Council in my dream, but even so, they were still trying to…to protect the Council from whatever was in that place…"

"I get it," Carth nodded dubiously, "you're trying to tell me they were still good guys back then. "As if that matters, Lal. Those two destroyed my world. Killed my wife and son. I know they were once _good_…that just makes what they did all the worse."

"Carth, I know. I wasn't trying to justify--"

"It's not a new story," he went on venomously, his eyes glinting coldly, staring beyond her. "Ever since men found a way to gain power over other men, there have been guys like Revan…like Malak. Power can be a poison, and it spreads its effects to everyone it touches, turning good men to bad, making it easier and easier for them to make choices that are atrocities…"

Lal fell silent and watched him rant. She was afraid to speak; afraid to further ignite his rage. But as he railed on about Revan and Malak, she felt the wall surrounding his thoughts collapse. Slashes of memory and slices of agony tore through her suddenly, tearing a gasp from her throat. Her mind could form no words to describe the shearing onslaught of images and thoughts and fears and hatred that blazed from him. She had never experienced anything like this surge of emotion pouring form him into her.

Her head spun and her body threatened to collapse. And a distant anger rose within her; anger at her own weakness in the face of this new challenge to her will. Anger at falling to it…

Her fists shriveled into hard little balls and her muscles tensed into cords of steel wire. She opened eyes burning with heat and screamed. "_Carth_!"

He fell silent and focused on her, as if seeing her face for the first time. Then he saw the trembling in her taut body, shivers along her arms, in her cheeks; the clenching of her teeth. "Lal…what is it…?"

"Y-you…y-your r-rage…" she hissed tightly, closing her eyes and fighting to control her sudden madness. "I'm not the one who did these things, damn you! Don't you…don't ever…you…"

"Lal…" he reached out to grip her shoulders, but she struggled away from his hands. He fought through her resisting arms to take hold of her. He pulled her close, embracing her, and her struggles instantly died. "I'm sorry, Lal. You're right. Of course you're right. I didn't mean to upset you…You didn't deserve that outburst…I'm sorry."

In his tight embrace, she pressed her head against his shoulder and nodded slowly. Her anger fled her as swiftly as it had seized her, and her arms gingerly slipped around his waist. She felt the slow rhythm of his breathing, mingling with the thrum of his heart beat. She felt her own pulse mirroring his, entangling together into one distant thunder.

He opened his mouth to speak, but his voice faltered. "I told you…about the Sith destroying my world…"

She nodded against his shoulder again.

"That's not the whole…story. Telos saw some hard times. During the war with the Mandies…But we were fighters. Any man whose home is threatened will fight in his own way. I was always a pilot, you know. When I was a kid, I flew my dad's little twin engine Seeder, recharging the soil beds on the banks, whenever the rivers would get too low in the dry season. That's how a lot of people made money when the droughts came. We lost our own plots some years earlier…wide scale blow-outs; hard winds come crashing over the mountains and literally blow away the topsoil…some folks started building artificial farms in terraces on the sides of cliffs. Used to be a time when the soil on the river banks was rich enough to be shipped to those terrace farms. But that only lead to other problems. Floodplains weren't really broad enough for that sort of thing. And when we got hit by the droughts, well, do the math.

"So, anyways, we'd developed ways to recharge the soil by overhead seeding. It was good money. Stake a plot of river-land, sell the soil when it was recharged. But it was also tricky work. You had to be a good pilot, flying those valleys. I got to be one of the best. So when the Mandies came in their basilisks and fighters, some of us got in our Seeders and took 'em on. We couldn't take 'em one on one unless we lured them down into those steep valleys and chasms.

"When the Republic came to help us, their resources were stretched pretty thin. They couldn't spare their fighter squadrons and battle groups for one planet on the Rim. But they did send the Black Sabers."

"Who?"

"Black Sabers. A loose affiliation of rogues and smugglers who were on the republic's payroll from…well, from way back. They had a reputation for being able to handle the bush-wars that were too…ah…dirty for the Republic's forces…Tough bastards. They were led by a man named Saul Karath. When Karath came with his Sabers, he was impressed by us pilots. Impressed by our ability to routinely defeat Mandie fighters and Basilisks with minimal or no weaponry. Karath was the man that convinced me to join the regulars, even after Telos had been liberated. That was when I discovered that Karath was more than just the leader of the Sabers. He was regular military himself. Special Forces. When I was fighting on Telos, I joined the Sabers. And when the battle left Telos, I followed Karath back into regular service. He was a good friend back in those days.

"But things change, don't they? I was loyal to Karath. He taught me a lot. I would have died for him, Lal. But that all changed when I learned…when I _saw_ with my own eyes, Karath and Revan and Malak…executing enemy soldiers. Not killing in battle…executing. Putting defeated, disarmed soldiers to death. You know why they did it? Not to demoralize the Mandies. They don't see death the same way we do. It doesn't scare them a single bit. I've seen Mandalorian women…no older than Mission, throw themselves into bonfires rather than be taken prisoner by the enemy. Death before dishonor. Mostly, it didn't come down to that, because the Mandies always fought to the death. But sometimes…sometimes, that wasn't an option. Mostly, when we took Mandie prisoners, we'd find them the next morning…having committed suicide. That was honorable to them, and that's what they did.

"but like I said, sometimes, they couldn't. We took to keeping them in shackles so we could interrogate them…hell, even just to keep them from killing themselves. It was against Republic conventions to allow an enemy combatant to come to harm while in captivity. If it could be avoided. But Revan…he and Malak started putting them to death when they were out on the front. Beyond supply lines…out in the cold where insanity is pretty much the only law. They'd leave the bodies humiliated and violated for the Mandie forces to find. It didn't demoralize them; it pissed them off. Enraged them. It drove them crazy. They started to throw strategy right out the door. Made foolish assault simply for the sake of vengeance. Basically, their rage blinded them to tactics. Made them stupid."

Lal nodded silently. She knew how easy it was to defeat a foe made foolish by rage.

"I confronted Karath about it. I couldn't believe it at first. But he admitted it, like…like there was nothing wrong with it. He told me, 'when you fight a monster, you must become a monster.' Can you believe that? I didn't buy into it. A lot of soldiers did, I guess…_do._ They think that pointing a gun at another living being in war gives them the right to be monsters. To commit any atrocity against the enemy. To call war _hell_ is like saying a Hutt is a little overweight. It's true, but it doesn't come close to the reality. But it's important for civilized beings to remember that they are civilized. That they're not monsters, because after war, the business of peace takes precedence. But men like Revan and Malak…and Karath, their entire lives are consumed by war. By a need to make war. Without it, they lose their power. They lose the very thing that makes them stronger than others."

"I suppose that's why the Jedi didn't want to get involved in the war?" Lal asked in a soft, tiny voice, hugging him tightly.

"No…I reckon not," he said after a while. "But that's not why I hate Saul Karath."

Lal pulled back from Carth to stare into his eyes. She took his hand in hers, holding it on her lap. "What is it Carth? Why do you feel so much hatred for this man?"

He sighed and lowered his eyes. "He destroyed my planet, Lal. He destroyed my home. He was following orders from Revan and Malak, but he stood on the bridge of the ship that slid into orbit…He ordered his officers to target the cities and the villages. He ordered his gunners to hit the targets again and again. He gave the order to target lifesigns and keep firing. Saul Karath took my world away from me. And I mean to make him pay for that."

She wanted to tell him something comforting, something to remove the pain. She wanted to tell him to let go of his anger. That he couldn't live his life for vengeance, that his wife wouldn't have wanted that. She wanted to say those things, but when the words formed on her tongue, they wilted upon her lips. Just because she now wore a lightsaber, it didn't qualify her to preach morality, to speak about what was right and wrong. To give advice.

Truth was, she would have dipped her hands in the man's blood without a thought to right and wrong. Taris had been the school in which she had learned her lessons of morality. Anything she might say to Carth now would feel cheap and shallow. She only knew one way to comfort a man after all. Well, perhaps two ways…

"Carth, I…"

"So now you know," he cut in with a hard whisper. "Now you know all there is to know about me. Being a Republic soldier doesn't give me any moral high ground over you. All the times I tried to act like I was…like I was better because I had something to fight for…it was all hypocrisy…"

He stood and moved away from the bunk, turning his back to her. She understood now why he was so impatient to get back to the war. To _his_ war. She understood his frustration, his drive. She understood his anger.

Lal stood up and moved behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. She laid her head against his shoulder and squeezed him tightly to her. "Carth," she said in a gentle whisper, "do shut up. You've already proved yourself a thousand times over. This…_feeling_ you have…wanting to punish this Karath…it doesn't make you a hypocrite. It doesn't make you anything. And _wanting_ to do it doesn't change who you are." She turned him around to face her, and stared up into his eyes. "Carth, I don't know what to say about Karath. But I do know that I wouldn't be here if you hadn't stumbled into my life. And, given the fact you had the good sense to save my life, you can't be all that bad a man."

She finished her words with a kiss and leaned into his strong embrace, pressing against him. Their lips met in a desperate crush and their breaths merged in a cloud of heat. Carth's hands whispered across the glossy surface of her Slipsuit, roaming along her body. She let his curiosity wander and explore while she reveled in the caress of his lips against hers.

"I thought that Jedi didn't uh…indulge themselves…like this," he murmured, gazing hungrily at her.

She smiled and stepped backwards, towards the bunk, pulling him with her. "Funny thing about that, I can't seem to _remember_…one way or the other…"

He kissed her again, and she tasted his desire for her upon her tongue. They collapsed backwards onto the bunk and he pressed atop her. She reached down to press the switch on her belt that would remove her Slipsuit…

And the door hissed open.

"Lal, I…" Bastila stopped inside the doorway as she saw the two of them. Her face turned bright red and her mouth hung open.

Lal glanced past Carth's shoulder at her sister and groaned inwardly. Carth's gaze lingered on her a moment longer, and then he pulled away, breathing heavily. He glanced at Bastila and then lowered his eyes. Lal fell the wall rising back over his thoughts again…

Bastila regained her composure and closed her mouth. She lifted her chin and arched an eyebrow to glare critically at Lal and Carth. "Forgive me for intruding. I suppose I should leave you now to indulge your base animalistic passions in privacy."

Lal caught Bastila's eye and nodded desperately, but immediately stopped when Carth glanced over at her. Carth squeezed her hand and stood before her. "I'll be going with you tomorrow, Lal."

"Oh…really?" Lal squeaked. "Well, I--"

"I'm afraid you can't, Carth," Bastila said archly, icicles dripping from her words. "This is Jedi business. I'm sure you understand."

"I do, Bastila," he sighed. "I'm just making it my business too. I'm sure _you_ understand." He moved past her and turned back to nod once at Lal while Bastila searched for a response. He smiled at both of the sisters and left.

Lal growled softly and rolled her eyes. "Wonderful. You couldn't have found a worse moment to walk in here if you'd tried, Basi."

Bastila's eyes widened incredulously, and she sputtered out a string of stammering disbelief. "Why I…you…of all the…how in…I…ohhh!"

Lal stood and placed her hands on her hips defiantly. "Here it comes…"

"Lal! You…you're a Jedi! We cannot…do that!"

"Do what?"

"_That_! What you were doing with Carth! It's forbidden!"

"You mean kissing?" Lal asked innocently.

"_Kissing_? You call that kissing? The two of you looked like a double-humped Sirrilian Octopod! All bloody arms and legs! A Jedi cannot engage in…_relations_…like…like that!"

"Oh don't be absurd, Basi. You're overreacting."

"Lal, love is an emotion that can lead to the Dark Side as easily as hate! We do not form attachments because of that reason! It is forbidden."

"Oh, who said anything about love, Bastila? We were merely kissing is all."

"Your thoughts betray you, sister," Bastila countered, calming her voice. "I can sense your emotions for him. Not that anyone needs to be a Jedi to notice!"

Lal narrowed her eyes and folded her arms across her breasts. "I see. Surprising that the Jedi would forbid any of their order to love when they obviously don't forbid them from poking their bloody noses into everyone else's business, don't you think?"

"I am not poking my nose into your business!" Bastila gasped. "I am your sister--"

"My nosy sister! Well, I have a question for you, sister dear. If the Jedi frown upon emotional attachments, then what do they think about you and me?"

"I…" Bastila frowned and turned away, searching for a response. "I'd rather not discuss this right now…"

"No? Well, you brought it up, Basi. The Council frowns on us speaking to our parents? On kissing? But they don't seem to have a problem shoving two sisters together? Doesn't that strike you as a bit odd?"

"I just came in to inform you that our transport was ready."

"That's lovely. What about my question? I can tell you have something on your mind, Basi. I can sense your feelings as easily as you can mine. You're hiding something. Tell me."

"Lal, I have no time for this…"

"Because you're simply so very busy, I suppose?" Lal dashed to stand in the door, blocking Bastila from leaving. "Tell me."

"Lal, I…"

"Tell me."

Bastila sighed and threw her hands up in frustration. "You're always doing this, you know…or at least you were! Doing your best to drive me insane!" Bastila whirled to face Lal and jabbed a finger at her. "You wish to know the truth? The truth is…the truth is you never listened to the Council. You were always rebellious and stubborn…in your own way…They thought your stubbornness would make you unsuitable for advanced training, but somehow, you managed to excel at it…The truth is, no matter how much they tried to separate us, you always found a way to be with me…Breaking the rules."

Lal felt her shoulders loosen and she stepped forward to lay her hands on Bastila's shoulders. "Is that such a bad thing, then? We are sisters…we should be close, Basi. It is the way of things that children be allowed to see their parents, that sisters should be close and that bloody grown people should be allowed to…have relations, as you put it. Just because it may or may not lead to the Dark Side doesn't mean it should be ignored."

"You sound so very much like you used to, Lal."

"Good. That means I've been making sense for a long time then," Lal smiled, gently patting Bastila's cheek.

"Lal, just because you believe it does not mean it is right. The Sith fell to the darkness because they could not control their passions. It is a great danger the Jedi face every day."

"I cannot argue that, Basi. I don't even care to, because I don't fully understand all of this. But I do know this: you cannot master a thing by turning away from it. By ignoring it. There is no ignorance…"

"There is knowledge…"

"That's right. One thing I learned on Taris was that you have to know yourself before anything else. Back then, I thought it was just knowing the limits of what you are capable of…of how far you're willing to go…But it also means you must know your heart before you can control it, don't you think? That's why I've put up with all of this. To know who I am."

"And what will you do, Lal? When you've learned all that you've forgotten?"

"How can I answer that, Basi? Is predicting the future another Jedi ability, then?"

"Actually…"

"Nevermind. I never make a plan beyond the things I can see anyway."

"Lal…if you could go back…back to Taris, back to being what you were…would you?"

Lal frowned at the suddenness of Bastila's question. She let her sister's thoughts seep into her head and saw that it had been something that had long weighed upon Bastila's mind. A fear, perhaps. An old fear…

Lal sat down on a bunk, tugging Bastila down beside her. They sat together, their legs pressed against each other, shoulders touching. And to Lal, it felt like interlocking pieces of a puzzle fit snugly into place. It was an odd thing to have emotions with no memories to explain them.

"Bastila, you changed my life. It seems I was trapped on Taris for so long…not so much being trapped on the planet as…well, being trapped in that life. I did not ever imagine that my life would be anything else. I don't know if your world, your life can ever fit me, but at least…at least my skies are no longer bound by kilometer-high towers and walls stained with the ruin of society. To answer your question, Sister, I wouldn't go back to being Davik Kang's assassin for all the credits in the galaxy. On Taris, all I saw was opportunity. Now, when I look around, when I see you, or Mission, or even Carth, I see only…possibilities. Does that make any sense, Basi?"

Bastila turned to her with a little girl's wide, uncertain eyes. Not the stiffness and veiled arrogance of a Jedi. Now, she was just a little sister trying to listen to her big sister. For one moment, she was nothing more than that. Bastila shook her head and waited for Lal to go on.

"I don't know if I can explain it any better. Don't know if I understand the difference myself…I've always been in a maze, Bastila. Endlessly turning corners, stumbling into dead-ends, retracing my steps. Searching for an exit that never could be found. I'm still in a maze…the Council has made sure of that. But even so, I feel like the exit is very close. That for once in my life, every step I take brings me closer to getting out of the maze."

"You still do not trust the Council, do you?"

"Bastila, all of this…the lightsaber…the powers…I don't know if this is in my future. All I know from them and from you is that it is a part of my past. Whether it will be my future…I can't say. But I intend to find out."

"I…I wish I could make you understand how great a threat Darth Malak is, Lal. And how important you are to the struggle."

"To me, Malak is nothing more than a man who abuses power. They came cheap on Taris. I don't know that fighting him is…well, I don't know. All I know is that this man is in my dreams, and there must be a reason for it. Hopefully, tomorrow, I'll find out that reason."

* * *

"This the same Soro-Suub from yesterday?" Carth asked as he circled around the massive speeder. He carried a cargo sack over his right shoulder and swung it down to the ground with a heavy thunk. Bastila sighed at his arrival and glanced down at the bag.

"Weapons, Carth?" she asked. "They will probably be of very little use to you where we are going. If there are dangers, they will likely be beyond the power of a simple blaster."

"That's why I brought grenades too," he told her.

Bastila shook her head in disbelief and climbed inside the speeder. Carth chuckled at her distress and glanced over to Lal. She stood at the mouth of the Enclave's vehicle bay, where the main door stood open to the chill morning. Her long brown hair danced in the cold breeze and her eyes glistened with the reflection of distant rays of sunlight peeking just above the wide, flat horizon.

She wore a heavy gray field jacket over her Slipsuit. It was so big that it hung down well past her hips. She huddled within the depths of the jacket, hugging herself for warmth. She turned at his approach and smiled. Carth stared at her for a minute, and nodded once before climbing into the speeder behind Bastila.

Frowning at his distance, not understanding it, Lal moved to join them inside, but she stiffened as another presence tugged at her senses. Canderous emerged from the shadows and moved to stand before her. She marveled at how silently the Mandalorian moved, even though he wore his full suit of battered blue armor. He wore a massive, heavy barreled rifle slung over his shoulder and carried a helmet in the crook of his arm. The helmet was sleek, like the tip of some archaic but deadly projectile, and was adorned only with an ominous and narrow slit that served as a visor. Something Mandalorian Hunters wore.

"Someone forgot to mail my invitation, I believe," Canderous growled.

"This is my business, Canderous. Not yours."

"Ah. And did you say the same to the soldier-boy?"

Lal cocked her head to the side and frowned. "Carth has his reasons, I suppose…"

"And, I suppose, so do I."

"So I gather. Mind telling me what they are, Canderous?"

"Mmm…I prefer to retain my mystery. If only in the hopes of catching you naked again."

"Always good to have a dream, I guess."

Canderous glanced at the cockpit through the windshield where he could see Carth and Bastila arguing about who would sit at the controls. "Of course, there is always your little sister. She's got quite a good deal of…_spunk_. Maybe I'll claim her and see if she's got the same little--"

"Canderous," Lal warned, "I have this thing called a lightsaber. It is exceedingly effective at slicing things off of other things. Vital things."

He chuckled and moved to tower over her. "Don't worry. I'll be a gentleman. She wears too many clothes for my tastes anyway. So, can we get on with this, or do you intend to compose a poem while staring off into the trackless morn?"

"You don't even know where we're going or why."

"Maybe I do and maybe I don't. But, for now, I walk with you."

* * *

They ranged north in the speeder, which smelled oppressively of stale Wookiee fur and scorched droid parts. Carth sat at the controls and Lal sat beside him as she had the day before, watching the grasses whip past in the newborn morning sunlight. They blazed past a farming community squatting on the dew-slick plains in a series of flat, earthen structures that reminded Lal of bunkers. There were a few ranches out this way, resting in lonely huddled repose in broad, ancient floodplains. According to the map, at any rate. Lal only saw one, and it looked abandoned, blackened as if from some old fire. She glanced back at the place as they zoomed past, and wondered what had happened to leave the place so dead and so still.

But after that, nothing stood on the grassy plains. Occasionally, short, rounded canyons rose up to snake around their path and unfold undulating arms of pale, worn stone. The sun stretched high into the air, painting the sky in broad strokes of gold and red. Bastila had told Lal that this world had always been home to her, her most favorite of places in all the galaxy. Lal didn't know if she felt the way Bastila had claimed, but that rich velvety sky was almost worth bearing the unyielding flatness of the land. The colors lairing within the lazy, swollen clouds filled her with warmth, wrapping her around like a snug blanket.

But as day passed slowly into darkness, Lal felt a shiver enter her spine. As the sun slipped beneath the horizon, the colors bled from the sky and from the land, leaving only a pale gray shroud and pools of shadow. Dantooine's night left Lal with a chill that had nothing to do with the brisk air. Perhaps it was the memory of Kath Hounds controlled by the Shadow; great massive packs moving with one mind, suffused with a hideous intellect.

But there were no packs hunting her. There was nothing alive in the night at all. Lal didn't understand the tautness stringing her muscles so tightly; didn't understand the source of cold quiet dread that had entered her skull.

As Carth hurled the speeder along, Lal's eyes caught tiny little hints of things she had seen before…vague shapes of rocks that coalesced into landmarks within half-formed memories. Patterns of canyons that made her think she had seen them before…been there before. Was that truly possible? Had she been here before? With Revan and Malak? Or was she just seeing what she had dreamed; remembering more?

"Lal?"

Lal glanced over, realizing Carth had called her name. "Hmm?"

"I was asking if there was anything on the map," he told her. "This looks like one great big slice of nothing."

Lal glanced down at the map on the screen of her wrist-comp and blinked a few times. She saw a ring of non-descript lumps resting against the rear of a box canyon on the map, with a text-link indicating that these structures were supposed to be the ruins they sought. "Another kilometer or so," she replied in a soft, tiny voice. "Around the next bend…"

Carth sighed and leaned the Speeder into a broad curve around a low canyon wall. As they crawled around the sweep of the pile of weathered stone, Lal caught the first glimpse of it. A ring of black tines jabbing up above the edge of the canyon. The closer they came, the more she could see of the spines; a crown of dark stone monoliths shooting starkly up from the ground at the far side of the canyon, each ebon stack towering like some ancient guardian.

Bastila eased into the cockpit behind them and leaned over the back of Lal's chair. Lal felt Bastila's warm presence as a comfort, a blanket that she wanted to wrap around her snugly. Bastila's hand fell upon Lal's shoulder, almost as if to provide comfort. Lal wondered if Basi was even aware she had done that.

"Father would be so very fascinated to see this," Bastila murmured distantly, staring at the cluster of monoliths. Lal sighed and struggled to subdue the anxiety boiling in her belly.

Bastila glanced down at her sister and pulled her hand away. She cleared her throat and said, "Yes, I can sense it too, Lal…they do look familiar."

Carth glanced over at them with an arched eyebrow. "How's that?" he asked. "You two have been here before?"

"The dream I had, Carth," Lal explained.

"Oh…right. Wait a minute," Carth frowned, "Bastila, you had the same dream?"

Bastila nodded at Carth and pursed her lips. "Of course, Carth. We are sisters. We share a bond unlike anything you could possibly have experienced."

"Oh. Right. Of course. What was I thinking? I don't know which is more mysterious…Jedi, or women. Maybe Jedi who _are_ women…"

"Look," Lal called out, pointing. "Is that a speeder bike?"

Carth pulled their speeder up short, swinging the end around and cutting the engine off. They ground to a halt ten meters from the monoliths and the four of them climbed down out of their vehicle. Carth led the way, keeping Lal and Bastila behind him. He slipped a pair of low-light glasses on over his eyes and tapped the power switch. Canderous ranged out to their left, his helmet covering his face completely. He moved with the prowling tentative steps of a hunting saber cat, holding his massive blaster rifle up to his shoulder.

"Aratech 340," Carth noted, looking the speeder bike over with a critical eye. "Maybe a C or D? They don't make 'em like this anymore. Hell…look at that. Custom job."

"Master Nemo had a speeder bike," Bastila said, glancing around. Her fingers tapped the surface of her lightsaber, hanging at her waist. "He would not leave it unattended unless…"

"There are no signs of a struggle," Canderous noted. "There are tracks that lead from the speeder…" He pointed the barrel of his weapon into the midst of the monoliths and Lal's eyes followed.

She was just barely able to make out a depression in the ground that led to a dark hump of a structure. Squinting, she could see it was a building, fashioned from the same black stone, crouching, huddling in the night, like a beast waiting to pounce on unwary prey.

"Reminds me of the penitentiary on Gallos IV," Canderous growled. A small bunker above ground that lead to the prison under the surface."

"Why am I not surprised by that?" Carth grunted.

Canderous turned to glare at him through the slit of his visor. "Hunted a man who was locked away inside. He was running a Death Stick trade with the collusion of the warden…"

"You mean to tell me you actually killed someone who deserved it?" Carth chuckled incredulously.

"Well…the price _was_ right, after all."

"We don't have time for this," Bastila sighed stepping forward, towards the entrance. Lal followed close behind, her hand brushing the hilt of her own lightsaber where it bounced against her hip.

"Hold on, you two," Carth called out, moving ahead of them. "There might be booby traps…"

"I sense no such threats," Bastila said, glancing around. "Obviously, Master Nemo entered without any difficulty."

"Not so _obvious_," Carth pointed out. "What if there are no signs of struggle because he never made it in? Just be careful is all I'm saying."

Bastila opened her mouth to reply, but instead simply nodded.

Carth turned and scowled at the door, a slab of smooth black stone. There were no controls to speak of, not even a handle. "Canderous, that helmets have scanning equipment in it?" Carth asked.

Canderous ran his gaze up and down the surface of the door in silence. He gave a shake of his head and propped the rifle onto his shoulder. "Not seeing anything. Of course, that doesn't mean there are no traps. If there are, I simply cannot detect them." He leaned a bit closer to Carth and chuckled, "Have you thought about knocking?"

"Be my guest," Carth replied.

"You're the polite one, 'Public…"

"Heavens," Lal sighed, reaching out and pushing on the door. It slid inward with a whisper of stone sliding against stone and snapped rapidly upwards. It revealed a tunnel that drank up the moonlight and spit forth only darkness. A gust of air whispered forth across her cheeks, filling her nose with the murky stink of wet stone and soil. The smell reminded her of Undercity with its dank and huddled horrors, squirming from the light…

_Cold blue light, wavering as footsteps clicked out a steady patina that bounced echoes down a long corridor…_

Beside her, Bastila gasped and staggered against the doorway. Carth was quick to grip her arm before she could collapse. Lal turned her head slowly, dreamily to look at her sister…Bastila's skin seemed very white in the moonlight, and her voice seemed to reverberate from far away.

"I'm fine…I…momentarily…I am fine," Bastila murmured, shaking her head. She shrugged out of Carth's grasp and steadied herself against the door frame. "Th-this place…strong in the Dark Side,"

"You think?" Canderous snorted, casting a wary glare at the entrance and the black corridor. "I could have told you that, and I don't even believe in your vaunted _dark side_."

Bastila snapped her head towards him and fixed him with a stabbing glare. "A foolish conceit, Canderous Ordo. You don't know the power of the Dark Side! It is--"

"Bah," he sighed, waving his gloved hand. "Good Jedi, bad Jedi, all the same. Only difference is in what methods they are willing to use to gain power. Not in how far they are willing to go to gain it. Even a good man, with a fanatic's commitment to his goals is…dangerous."

Bastila frowned and mulled his words over for a moment. "That may or may not be true, but--"

"There is no 'but', Jedi," Canderous cut in casually. "Wrapping mere temptation in the mysterious cloak of the _dark side_ is merely a clever rationalization…a means of instilling the fear of some intangible devil into children and young Jedi too foolish to determine the nature of good and evil on their own. Dogmatic nonsense."

"Canderous," Carth began with a chuckle, "I'm surprised. That's actually a complete thought that doesn't end with 'and then I killed them all.' You're making progress."

Before Canderous could fire off a reply, Bastila spoke in a low growl, "It is not wise to underestimate the power of the Force, Canderous. Not wise at all."

"Spare me your veiled threats, Jedi. I have seen Jedi powers in battle, and have killed more than a few of your kind myself. I do not doubt your powers. Only your philosophy."

And as they continued to argue, no one noticed the first tentative steps that Lal took into the darkness, her eyes all but closed like a sleepwalker's. She left their heated voices behind and moved deeper into the black corridor, where she could hear other voices…

_"I've got a bad feeling about this, Revan," Malak whispered, his wide eyes darting all around. He held forth his lightsaber, and adjusted the power setting to cast a beam of harmless blue light instead of a shaft of deadly humming energy. But the beam of light only sliced through the barest layers of shadow within the ruins._

_"Oh, stop it, Malak," Revan hissed back. "You always have a bad feeling. This place is somehow shielded…masking Jedi senses."_

_Malak shrugged his massive shoulders and rolled his eyes. "Revan, maybe the fact that this place is shielded is…I don't know…a warning of sorts?"_

_Revan sighed in growing annoyance. "Go where your enemy cannot go. Remember Master Vrook telling us that? Be where you cannot be and no one will ever expect you."_

_Malak nodded silently. "So, does that mean the Council is our enemy now, Revan?"_

_Revan stopped and turned to glare at Malak. "Of course not. It was…damn it, it was a metaphor and you know it. But they would try to stop us. Unless…do you want to turn back?"_

_"I…I just don't know…I mean about defying the Council…It feels wrong."_

_"It_ is_ wrong. But which is the greater wrong, Mal? Defying the orders of a bunch of old men too far removed to feel the pain of the average person? Or saving the average person when no one else will stand and fight for them?"_

"What did you say, Lal?" Carth asked, turning to face her. But she was drifting down the corridor into thick, liquid shadow. He dashed to catch up with her, and Canderous and Bastila followed. Yanking her arm, Carth stopped Lal and spun her around. "Lal!"

She glanced up at him with blank eyes. "Th-they came through here…talking. They were…n-nervous…"

"I suppose that puts the booby trap theory out," Canderous growled softly.

"Not necessarily," Carth noted.

Bastila sighed at the two of them. "Would you please stop worrying about booby traps? We would have sensed something…"

"I'd like for you to sense some light, to be honest," Carth replied, glancing around.

Lal reached for her lightsaber with stiff, mechanical motions and adjusted the power setting as she had seen Malak do. Her saber cast a beam of pale lavender light forth from the emitter assembly, sawing into the darkness. A second door resolved from the blackness, standing before them. Like the outer door, there was no keypad, no handle. Just featureless smooth stone.

_"Any ideas for opening it, Revan?" Malak asked after pushing on the door with all his considerable strength._

_"Hmmm. I've got an idea…how about you take a running start and hit it head-first?"_

_"Nice," Malak chuckled. "But you're the one with the ideas. Your turn."_

_"Indeed. And once again, brawn gives way to brains…"_

_Malak folded his arms across his heavy chest and shook his head. "Be my guest, brain-trust."_

_Revan sighed and stepped before the door, looking up and down the surface. "Interesting…there had to be a way to get in…not necessarily a means accessible to outsiders but…"_

Lal held up her hand, with her palm facing the door. The muscles in her shoulders and neck tensed briefly into steel and a tingling wave flooded her body, flushing her cheeks bright red. Her hand trembled tautly, and the door rumbled and shivered. It slid to the side slowly, invisible hands pushing it aside. Once it was fully opened, Lal's body sagged, and she nearly collapsed. Carth and Bastila caught her and held her up.

Lal steadied herself, but her eyes remained vacant, staring at images long ago departed…

"Didn't know she could do that," Carth murmured, keeping a protective hand on Lal's shoulder.

"She's remembering," Bastila whispered, taking hold of her sister's hand. She stared into Lal's face and went on, "Sister, what is it you see?"

"Hell," Canderous snarled, "I'm picking up an energy surge--"

Before any of them could respond or react, a flash of light blazed over them, turning the darkness into day, flooding their sight.

_"What the hell is this?" Malak cried as the light washed across their bodies._

_"Don't resist it!" Revan warned. "Something's…it's scanning us…"_

_Malak fought to remain calm, grinding his teeth and squaring his jaw. "What is scanning us, Revan? I'm not sensing anything…"_

_"I…can…I can feel it…hard to describe…intelligent…? Alive…?"_

_The wave of light passed harmlessly over the two Jedi and dissipated like dew vaporizing in the heat of the midday sun. Revan swallowed a gasp and nodded to Malak. The two of them stepped through the doorway into a large chamber that flickered dimly with ghostly light. Streams and strands ran in bright threads through the air, flickering and blinking, like the display from a computer read-out; but floating in the air like glowing spider webs disturbed by a gust of wind._

_"What is this?" Malak whispered hotly, glancing around at the hovering strands and streaks of light._

_"Machinery…" Revan replied. "Hidden…I can feel the pulse of engines…the flow of power to…to circuits…capacitors…"_

_"And these lights?" Malak asked. "Holograms? A three-dimensional display system, maybe?"_

_"More than that." Revan lifted a hand to touch a fan of flickering lights. The lights changed color suddenly. "An interface system. Like nothing I've ever seen…"_

_"Interface system…for what?"_

"I'm getting some very odd readings, here…" Canderous warned after the light faded.

Carth frowned at that, and pointed into the chamber beyond the corridor. "I'd guess it has something to do with…_that_…"

Lal stared at the floating holographic displays she'd seen in her vision, manifested now and here, before her. She took a step towards the room, but her foot hovered in place, not touching the ground. She hesitated for some reason…She stumbled backwards and shook herself free from her reverie. "I can't…I can't see any more…"

Bastila wrapped her arm around Lal's waist to hold her sister up. Lal glanced over to her, seeing her face clearly again and smiled, a silent message of thanks. Then, Lal glanced down to the lightsaber in her hand and noticed the beam of light shining from it.

"I didn't know it could do that," she muttered. "Or did I…?"

"You were having a vision," Bastila explained. "Seeing what Revan and Malak saw."

"What?" Carth asked suddenly. "Why would Lal see what those two saw?"

Bastila glanced up at Carth for a moment and shook her head. "I cannot say for certain, Carth. Perhaps because they were once close. I shared her dream because we are sisters. It is not…uncommon for Jedi to share perceptions…memories…even visions of the future. Lal's visions may be the key to unraveling what it was that Revan found here."

Carth digested that with a frown and then turned to Canderous. "Can you make any sense of what you're detecting?"

"At a guess, I'd say complex machinery" Canderous replied.

"That's strange," Carth said. "How old are these ruins?"

"No one knows for certain," Bastila told him. "Colonization of Dantooine is fairly recent. People have only lived here for, perhaps less than a thousand years. Early prospectors made mention of these ruins, but there has never been a concerted effort to actually research them. And the Council's presence here is really only quite recent, after all."

"I think it's an interface," Lal said, struggling to piece together the exact words Revan and Malak had said in her vision. "For a computer system."

"A holographic interface?" Carth asked. "I've never heard of such a thing. I can think of a few engineers who'd love to be standing here right now, though."

"Perhaps not, 'Public," Canderous murmured, pointing to the floor of the chamber before them.

They all glanced to where he pointed and saw a dark stain of the floor. "Blood," Carth whispered.

"And recent, too," Canderous nodded.

"Master Nemo!" Bastila cried, dashing into the chamber suddenly.

"Basi!" Lal shouted, grabbing after her sister. Bastila slipped through Lal's fingers, thrusting herself inside the room. Lal followed without a bit of thought, drawing a shared curse from Carth and Canderous. They all surged into the room filled with glowing spider webs of light. Carth whipped out his blaster pistols and cast a wary glance around. Canderous took up a defensive position on the other side of the door, instinctively seizing a place from which he could lay down a broad field of fire with his massive rifle.

Bastila swooped to the floor before a ripped and torn corpse, tossed casually aside like an old rag doll. A pool of thickened, sticky blood stained the floor beneath the body, and Bastila gasped in shock and horror.

"Where is…his head…? Oh, Master Nemo! Oh…"

Lal tugged on Bastila's shoulders and hauled the young Jedi into her arms. "Who would do something so horrendous?" Bastila moaned against her sister's shoulder as Lal hugged her. "They took his head…who would do that? Who would do something like that?"

"More importantly, who or what _could_ do something like that?" Carth echoed, leaning over to examine the shredded body. "Who could do that to a Jedi Knight? He's still holding his lightsaber…This happened fast."

"Visions aside," Canderous remarked coolly, "I don't think we want to find out."

Carth nodded. "Bastila, Lal…I think we should--"

The door slammed shut with a hiss and a boom, and the holographic webs flickered angrily with streaks of red. A cold voice thundered through the air, rumbling in tones that snapped like sheets of thin steel reverberating in a hard wind.

**_"Nars haas slus yi sar ick-thal-ya. Noos saan thi."_** A circle of red light appeared before them and rotated with needles and arrows of flickering green.

Carth snapped his blaster up at the floating circle and glanced briefly at Lal and Bastila. "What the hell is it saying?"

Bastila shook her head. "I don't…I don't recognize…"

**_"Neet-choo hadda. Nal chut tooda. Yee sai-ooto."_**

"That almost sounded like Huttese," Canderous said.

"Early Huttese," Lal clarified. "Predates the Hutt trade language…"

"Add linguist to the list of talents," Canderous noted with a snort.

"Can you understand it, Lal?" Carth asked.

She shook her head. "Structure is too different…something about…image…face…or…or…_Identity!_ Maybe…maybe it's asking who we are…"

"My guess is he gave the wrong answer," Canderous grunted, nodding once towards Nemo's corpse."

"She's right," Carth said, "makes sense. Like a computer requesting a user ID. Can you respond, Lal?"

"And tell it what?" she snapped. "'Hi, I'm Lal. These are my friends. I don't think we've bloody met…'"

As she spoke, a grinding of steel against stone hissed from the walls and ceiling.

"Not good," Canderous pointed out. He reached into a pouch at his hip to withdraw a thermal charge. "This should take out the door…"

"And us with it!" Carth cried. "There's no cover here, Canderous!"

Canderous whipped around to glare at him, but had no choice but to agree. "Last resort, I suppose…"

**_"Band-dee nah sihanjee tahl. Summa that sanji-nod."_**

"Wait!" Bastila called out, "I recognized that! Durosian! It's like…it's cycling through the ancient languages…trying to determine a frame of reference!"

"Durosian," Lal murmured. She cleared her throat and took a step towards the red circle. She opened her mouth to reply then turned back around. "What the hell do I tell it?"

"Tell it to open the damned door!" Canderous snarled at her.

"I…uh…Sihan…sihanjuu," Lal began, stumbling over the Durosian tongue. "Damn it…uh…Band-loo nah! Uh…shian sal…?"

**_"Scan/scanning local phonemes. Pattern/patterning."_** The voice suddenly fired off a stream of words in standard Basic Trade, flooding them with a barrage of simple articles and nouns and verbs. It then flung a horde of prepositions at them, followed by a volley of adverbs and adjectives, establishing simple translations of basic concepts. **_"Analysis complete. Assimilation verified. Do you understand?"_**

Lal glanced at Bastila and Carth and swallowed a dry lump in her throat. "Ah…yes."

**_"Voice pattern analysis commencing. Recognized. User access granted. Defense systems on stand-by. How may I assist you, User?"_**

Lal scowled in confusion and looked again to Bastila, who could only shrug. "Um…excuse me? 'User'? Do you know who I am?"

**_"This unit is not programmed to provide that information, User. Please resubmit."_**

"Um…okay…how about this…open the door."

Behind them, the door slid open.

"Time to go," Canderous grunted, heading for the door. Carth made to follow him, but Bastila stopped them with a word.

"Wait a minute," she said. "We cannot leave yet. We must discover what Revan and Malak were doing here."

Canderous and Carth shared a glance and a single thought, which they gave voice to at the same time: "Something evil…"

"No!" Bastila cried. "We have to learn what it is! Master Nemo died for that knowledge! Whatever it is could be the advantage we need to bring this war to an end!"

"Damn it," Carth hissed, "alright…"

Canderous sighed and propped his rifle on his shoulder. "Well, I never expected to live forever, after all…"

Lal moved to join the three of them at the doorway and whispered, "I don't know what to ask it…"

"Perhaps allow me to try," Bastila offered. She stepped towards the red circle and cleared her throat. "Yes. Ahem. Please define your purpose and design parameters."

**_"Subject not recognized. Defensive systems engaging."_**

"Wait!" Lal cried, stepping in front of Bastila. "Don't…do not engage defensive systems! Do you understand?"

The voice hesitated for a moment. **_"User command acknowledged."_**

"Seems like it only wants to talk to you, Lal," Carth sighed. "For some reason it recognizes you."

"Uh," Lal went on, "please…define your purpose. And uh…design parameters. Please."

**_"This unit was designed as a stage-2 operations monitor/sentinel with the intent to oversee and organize slave functions within this sector. This unit has at its disposal internal and external integrated and mobile defensive systems to enforce and maintain security. This unit has access to archive data files x2r45 to a34z15. This unit was modified to provide User access to command architecture and information systems."_**

"Okay…who…who built you?"

**_"This unit was designed by the Makers."_**

Lal frowned, again glancing at Bastila. "Who are the Makers?"

**_"The Makers are the ones who rule in complete and uncontested sovereignty. The Makers are eternal and unyielding."_**

"Right…of course. But who are they?"

**_"The Makers are the ones who designed this unit."_**

"I see…" Lal sighed and placed her hands on her hips. "Hmmm…Give me all information you have on the Makers."

**_"Please input User code for information access, User."_**

"Oh, hell…"

**_"Invalid code. Please input User code for information access."_**

"Bloody hell, nevermind…Um…when did the Makers build you?"

**_"This unit is incapable of providing an answer within the parameters of this language. Accessing star chart data. Correlating astronomical temporal data. Please stand by. Accessing…stand by…accessing. Correlation complete. Twenty two revolutions of the outermost body in this star system."_**

"Huh?" Lal grunted.

"Oh my…" Bastila murmured softly. "Lal, if what this thing is saying is correct…why, that's nearly…it would predate the formation of the Republic by roughly…thirty thousand years!"

"That's not possible," Carth said. "This technology is…it's too advanced to be that…thirty thousand years?"

"Since there are no records of these Makers," Bastila began, "they are likely extinct. Somehow, Revan and Malak accessed this system. Reprogrammed it."

"I must have been here too!" Lal said. "It recognizes me as a 'User'…" She readdressed the red circle: "Has this User been here before?"

**_"Yes."_**

"With Revan and Malak?"

**_"This unit is not capable of providing that information."_**

"What? Why not?'

It paused before replying. **_"This unit was modified to restrict assess to User identification."_**

"Damn it," Lal growled. "What did the Users seek when they last accessed this unit?"

**_"This unit was modified to restrict access to that information."_**

Lal thought for a moment on how to frame her next question. "What actions did the users take when they last accessed this unit?"

**_"Users accessed archive file g3t27. Users accessed archive file g5y03. Users de-initialized security overrides. Users gained access to Interior Sanctum. Users successfully established secure access to Maker engineering files. Users successfully engaged cartographic access."_**

"That sounds interesting," Carth noted. "Interior Sanctum. Sounds important."

Bastila nodded. "I'm more concerned about these engineering files…Lal…"

"What information did the Maker engineering files contain?" Lal asked.

**_"Specific information restricted. Please provide access code."_**

"Nevermind…um…what is the subject of these files?"

The system unit hesitated again, as if considering its reply. **_"The Starforge,"_** It finally said.

"Starforge," Lal whispered, letting the word tumble experimentally upon her tongue. "Starforge. What is the Starforge?"

**_"The Starforge is the greatest of all the creations of the Makers."_**

"But what did they…what is…what did they build the Starforge to do?"

**_"Access to that information is restricted."_**

"Of course it bloody is," Lal sighed. "Wait, you mentioned an Interior Sanctum…how do I gain access to the Interior Sanctum?"

The floating lights patterns suddenly shifted, and a glowing rectangle appeared on the far wall. **_"Access is gained through this portal, User. Does the User wish to enter?"_**

"Um…er…stand by…" Lal turned to face the others for their opinions. "Well…? Do we?"

"I don't know," Carth said. "What the hell is this Starforge? Whatever it is, Revan and Malak probably took it with them…"

"Maybe the damned thing creates suns," Canderous suggested, "going from the name alone, of course."

"It definitely seems like it is meant to build something," Bastila said.

Lal folded her arms over her breasts, and her brow creased in thought. "What happened to Revan and Malak after the end of the Mandalorian War?"

"No one knows, Lal," Bastila said. "Rumor has it they…oh dear…rumor has it, they disappeared beyond the Outer Rim…and when they returned, they had a fleet greater than anything fielded in the entire Republic! Massive, powerful warships of a design never before seen!"

Lal nodded. "Indeed. Maybe that's what the Starforge does…or maybe it's some sort of…shipyard…but that doesn't…_feel_ right…"

"Hold on now…that kinda makes sense…" Carth began, his brow wrinkling as he considered the logic. "Think about it for a minute; Okay, say the Starforge is some sort of shipbuilding facility. It would mean that it's capable of creating an entire fleet of ships like Malak's Leviathan…almost literally overnight! How long does it take a normal shipyard to build just a single vessel? Months? Years? See what I'm getting at here?"

"'Public's right," Canderous said. "Tremendous tactical and strategic advantage. The one thing that limits the power of any fleet is attrition. You could create a dreadnaught capable of razing whole worlds, but the damned thing would literally be too valuable to ever use, for fear of losing it to battle. That fact limits the strength of your fleet. But if you had…an unlimited capability to produce dreadnaught class vessels, your losses would cease to be a limiting factor. No fleet could match you. Nothing could stop you. It is quite elegant in its simplicity, Lal."

"I suppose," Lal shrugged. "I just…I can't explain it, but I have this feeling that the Starforge is…I don't know…_more._ More that that…"

"Well, regardless," Bastila said, "we have to go into the Sanctum. We have to learn what Revan and Malak learned."

"Alright," Carth sighed. "I'm game. But I'll bet real money that it ain't gonna be as easy as just walking across the room and opening the door."

Lal nodded and thought about it for a second. Then she addressed the circle once more. "Will accessing the Interior Sanctum trigger any defensive or security systems?"

**_"Yes."_**

"Wonderful," Carth groaned.

"Is there a way for this User to deactivate the security systems?" Lal asked.

**_"Implementation of User Identification Code."_**

"Which we don't know," Carth said. "Great."

"Wait a minute, wait…" Lal whispered, her mind burning with sudden random thoughts. "There's a way around this. This thing is just a machine…it isn't actively trying to keep us out…it's just following a program…"

"What are you thinking, Lal?" Bastila asked.

"How is the User Identification Code implemented?"

**_"Verbally."_**

"I thought so," Lal smiled. "That would mean that you have to keep a record of the words used."

**_"Correct."_**

"Mmm-hmm. Do you have the capability to play back recorded words?"

_**"This unit has that capability."**_

"Play back all words recorded when the security system was last de-activated."

The system hesitated for a moment, and Lal felt her heart pounding against her chest. She found herself suddenly back in the deep shadows of Taris, relying on her wits to slip into places, to circumvent security systems and step where she was not supposed to.

**_"Play back commencing:"_** it finally said. Then, a woman's voice reverberated through the air in stiff, disjointed, chopped syllables: **_"free-dom-is-nev-er-free."_**

Bastila released a gasp as she heard those words, drawing a glance from Lal. "What is it?" Lal asked.

"That voice, Lal," Carth said.

"Huh?"

"It's your voice," he explained.

Lal shook her head and frowned at him. "No it's…not…" She lowered her eyes, realizing that Carth was right. It did sound like her voice. "Did this User implement this code before?"

**_"Yes."_**

Lal clamped a hand to her mouth in shock. "Why can't I remember? I don't understand this! It doesn't make sense!"

**_"This unit is not programmed with that information. Please restate."_**

"I wasn't asking you!" Lal screamed, her fists clenching into heavy balls at her sides. Bastila stepped forward to take hold of Lal's shoulders.

"Be at ease, sister," Bastila murmured in a soft soothing voice. "We will deal with this later…"

"I should be able to remember!" Lal moaned.

Carth laid a hand over Lal's shoulder and moved close to her, kissing her temple and whispering into her ear, "Lal, you're not alone here, okay? Your friends are here. We'll deal with this, but right now, we got work to do. Understand?"

Lal nodded, and stared gratefully at Bastila and Carth. She turned to Canderous and wondered what expression he wore beneath his impassive helmet. If he sneered at her weakness. He merely inclined his head and glanced away from her. Lal nodded again and straightened her field jacket. She took a step towards the circle and said, "Freedom is never free."

**_"Security system disengaged."_**

Upon the far wall, a sheet of stone outlined by the green hologram rumbled aside, revealing a room within faintly glimmering with amber and green light. Lal sucked in a deep breath and lifted her chin. She moved across the chamber to the opposite wall, her feet barely touching the floor, it seemed. The others fell in step behind her, as if they were meant to.

She stepped inside the smaller chamber and glanced around. Inside there stood a console at the center of the room, twinkling with scrolling alpha-numerics across the display screen. A few meters away from the console rested a twisted mesh of black steel and dull red lights, bristling with slender, spider legs, tapered at the end like spears; with grasping pincers hanging down to the floor; with blunt angry nozzles and barrels blackened from carbon scorching.

It was some sort of droid, built solely to inflict pain, to rip and tear flesh. To destroy. It slowly swiveled a flat ellipsoid head, studded with a single great red eye, following her movements. Waiting.

When they saw the droid, both Carth and Canderous snapped their weapons towards it. Bastila swiftly held her hand in front of them. "Wait," she hissed, "Lal deactivated the security! But it still might attack if it perceives a threat from any of us…"

Carth sighed and cast her a doubtful glance, but he lowered his weapons. Canderous released a growl and moved the barrel of his rifle aside. Lal kept an eye on the droid as she moved to the console. Keeping watch on the droid, her hands danced out and of their own volition, tapped a series of keystrokes on the display screen. She glanced down with a frown of confusion as a series of alpha-numerics scrolled across the screen. "What…what happened?"

The others stared blankly at her. "You tapped in a command, Lal," Carth said quietly.

"I did? I wasn't…I didn't…" Lal stared at them with wide helpless eyes and shook her head. "I don't know what to do…I don't remember!"

"Maybe your mind doesn't actively remember," Carth told her, "but something inside you is starting to, Lal. It's like…you weren't paying attention to what you typed. It was like instinct or something."

"But I don't know how to…" Before Lal could finish, a series of visuals flickered across the display panel; coordinates, planetary data, star charts. Lal stared down at the panel, her eyes flicking back and forth across the lines of information, the images flashing and scrolling.

Finally, the screen went blank but for a single flashing prompt:

**WOULD YOU LIKE TO ACCESS STARMAP DATAFILES?**

Lal rubbed a hand down across her mouth and glanced at Bastila and Carth. "Starmap?"

"Probably a means of finding this Starforge," Carth suggested hopefully, resting a hand comfortably at the small of Lal's back and hovering very close to her. "Look…doesn't that look like a typical DS-109 dataport?"

Lal stared at the nodule on the left side of the console and nodded. She supposed Revan and Malak…and _she_ had modified the systems here to integrate more familiar technology. She held up her palmtop computer and whispered, "I can upload the files to here…" She flicked open her comp's interface port and slid the flat device against the console's port where it snapped snugly into place. She entered an uplink command on her comp and then glanced back down at the console.

"Wait," she said, "there's something wrong."

"What is it?" Bastila asked.

"All this information…it looks like it's…I don't know…corrupted or something. I can only make out some of it…"

"It's probably encrypted," Bastila told her. "There should be a decrypt command in the menu…"

Lal tapped the screen, searching for a decrypt option, and shook her head. "No, there's not. It only offers a download option."

Bastila frowned in thought for a moment. "Well, download everything you can and we'll take it back to the Council's computers. They have powerful decryption software. We'll figure it out there."

Lal nodded reluctantly as something tugged at the back of her mind. A memory trying to push through, perhaps? But like a word on the tip of her tongue dancing at the edge of recognition, she could not grasp it. "Damn."

"What is it?" Bastila asked.

"I…nothing. Nevermind." Lal keyed in the sequence to start the upload. The information trickled through the datalink in tiny droplets at first, but then, the dam burst and the files flooded into her palmtop. In seconds, half the palmtop's empty memory disintegrated, replaced by swollen virtual packets stuffed with optical data. The memory counter display bar steadily shrank away to nothing as information shoved itself into the comp's storage banks. Finally, squeezing the last errant bits of data onto her palmtop, the link shut down. Lal checked to make sure the transfer was complete and then tugged the palmtop free of the data port. "We're done here," she said.

As she turned to go, a beam of light erupted from the base of the console, stabbing straight up towards the ceiling. They all fell back from the glowing shaft, shielding their eyes from the sharp blue glare. The beam warped and bulged, seeming to spin, into a circle…a sphere. The sphere was shot through with tiny strands of light, spaced at even intervals. A grid, revealing itself in three dimensions before them. Tiny pinpricks of light erupted within the sphere like stars, clusters of stars, gathered in familiar patterns like the nebulae that formed the heavens.

"The Starmap…" Lal gasped, staring at the holographic display in wonder. She reached out to touch a cloud of little stars, twinkling like diamonds just beyond her fingertips. But her hand passed through them.

"A map of the entire galaxy…" Bastila mused in fascination, walking around the sphere. "Once, when we were children, we went to the Temple on Coruscant…in the Archives, there exists the most complete map in all the Republic…and still, it pales compared to this…"

"Yeah, I've seen it," Carth nodded. "But there's just one problem."

"Hmm?" Bastila murmured.

"Take a close look," he urged.

"I don't…wait…is that the Koornacht?" Bastila asked. "It shouldn't be there…"

"Stellar drift," Carth explained. "This map is nearly forty-thousand years old. It's showing the galaxy how it looked back then."

"Oh," Bastila gasped, covering her mouth. "Well…but…We can correlate it with current star charts…can't we?"

"Maybe," Carth shrugged. "But star charts have to be updated constantly, based on newly recorded data. Every time a surveyor puts into port, they download their navigational scans into the Republic's databanks. Navigational markers and galactic buoys are then updated…this is a constant process. And even then, it's still not accurate. This thing is so old that…well, it may not be of any use…"

Canderous cleared his throat. "Perhaps we could continue this fascinating discussion at another time. Our friend here looks a bit impatient."

"Alright," Carth nodded. "Canderous is right. We probably have overstayed our welcome."

The headed back to the outer chamber and prepared to leave. But Bastila paused at Master Nemo's body. She glanced up at the others and tried to speak, but no words left her mouth. Carth turned to Lal, who stood at her sister's side.

"Uh," Carth began nervously, watching Lal's eyes closely, "I guess we could find a blanket in the Speeder? Canderous?"

"What? It's a dead body," Canderous shrugged. "Just an empty shell. Why do you…Oh hell…"

Lal imagined she could see Canderous rolling his eyes beneath his helmet, but the Mandalorian went to get a thermal blanket from the speeder. When he returned, they carefully wrapped Nemo's body in the blanket and carried him to the speeder. This seemed to ease Bastila's feelings a bit, but neither Carth nor Canderous appeared terribly enthusiastic about riding all the way back with a corpse in the speeder.

As they stowed the body in the rear of the Sorosuub, Lal stood outside the entrance to the ruins and the questions in her mind danced wildly with the fears lairing there. She had stood in these ruins at some point with Malak and Revan. She had learned its secrets alongside those two. That meant they must have trusted her, even as they turned to the dark side. They trusted her. And she wondered, she _feared_ what that meant for her.

* * *

He growled softly as he watched Lal on the remote display. She didn't see the tiny surveillance droid floating twenty meters away from her. Didn't know she was being watched. With her hair left unbound, fluttering in the wind like a dark cloak, she was perhaps the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

She had always been beautiful; perfect in her beauty. But something had changed. He had no words evolved enough to describe her change. But it left him in awe, with a silent pit of churning nervousness inside him. It excited him, it confused him. And ultimately, it enraged him.

As he sat many kilometers away, examining the droid's telemetry readouts, distracting himself with numbers, the thought occurred to him that Lal Sideen was so very much like a woman he had known so long ago. Someone who could have been his mother…or perhaps a sister had she shared any blood with him. It was one of the few pleasant memories of his childhood, and it had been so fragile, so fleeting. She had taught him his first letters and numbers. He recalled little more than her smile, which encouraged him and shamed him at the same time.

But he had ruined it.

He had ruined everything, and was sent away, to an even darker place, where he had grown to hunger for the taste of an enemy's blood. Where there were no pretty, perfect ladies to guide him in his learning, only death and killing.

He shook himself from his memories and watched Lal's perfect form as she turned to climb into the speeder. He didn't know what had drawn them across the countryside to those ruins, and he didn't care. He wanted to feel Lal's sweet form turn cold in his arms. Wanted to stare deep into her perfect, sculpted face as her eyes turned into sightless white balls. Wanted to feel her taut muscles go limp, and know that he had killed her.

But she was careful and she was clever. As always. No way he could take her with all the people surrounding her. He couldn't even get to the Ebon Hawk, safely ensconced away within the Jedi Enclave. It angered him that he saw Canderous Ordo with her; that man needed a good killing…He had spent nearly a day, body covered with Kolto sheathes, healing from the burns Canderous had given him…

He couldn't touch them. Couldn't touch Lal. But that didn't mean he couldn't hurt them.

He walked up the ramp into the belly of his ship and activated the commsystem. "This is Calo Nord. I've found her."


	18. Chapter 15

15: The Power of the Dark Side

They arrived late the following afternoon, and the temperature had warmed considerably. Bastila and Lal gave the Starmap data to the Council, and Lal had expected some more answers from them. But the Council dismissed them, in order to examine and research this information. Lal was starting to understand Carth's frustration with being tugged this way and that, at the whim of a higher power. But perhaps it was for the best since Lal was exhausted. She thought about taking the Speeder out to her house, but ultimately, she just collapsed on her tummy in a bunk on the _Hawk._

Lal awoke to a distant tickling sensation upon her cheek. In irritation, she brushed at it, but the sensation returned. Her eyes fluttered open, and she sat up with a yawn to find a shiny blob of metal hovering over her. Ay-Vee's sensor dome swiveled down to watch her with his customary curiosity. The droid released a muted stream of beeps and chirps at her, and a smile found its way onto her lips.

"Well, you're looking quite chipper, aren't you?" she chuckled, gently reclaiming a strand of her hair from one of his grasper arms. The droid whistled and spun in a circle, showing off his polished chassis. Of course, she had no idea what the little thing was saying, so she just nodded. "Oh, indeed. You look brand new. All shiny. I trust you'll be more considerate of Zaalbar's sensitive hearing since he went through so much trouble to put you back together?"

The droid responded with an excited symphony of whistles ending with an emphatic beep.

"Er…yes. Brilliant. Oh, and do try to be more careful in the future, hmm?"

Lal heard a stirring in the bunk across from hers and saw Mission's head peek out from beneath a thermal sheet. Mission glanced around with eyes that could barely open and muttered, "Time izzit?"

"Go back to sleep, honey," Lal told her. Mission yawned and propped herself up on her pillow. She squinted at Lal and Ay-Vee and rubbed her eyes. Lal moved over to sit on the edge of Mission's bunk and reached out to stroke the girl's head.

"Those two are like best buds now," Mission murmured sleepily. Ay-Vee chirped out his agreement eagerly. "I don't understand Wookiees. Once he got Ay-Vee back together again, he just started upgrading stuff. But he did turn down the volume on his speaker-thingee…"

"Ah. Of course."

Mission squeezed Lal's hand and laid back against the pillow. "Glad you're back…" In seconds, Mission was snoozing once more. It must have been very late. Lal figured she probably should have climbed back in bed, but she had been asleep since the afternoon.

So, she drew the sheet up over Mission's shoulders and stood. She went and took a shower and changed into a soft tan tunic that fell down past her thighs. She stole a pair of Mission's boots that came close to matching and laced them up to her knees. Mission had a slightly unhealthy taste for leather, it seemed, but these boots were fashioned from something that felt like tanned Vedra hide. Felt smooth and silky against her legs. But given how rare Vedra was, Lal decided it must be imitation. But obviously Mission had found someplace in the Enclave that sold off-world fashions. Good Mission. Good girl. Lal wasn't quite ready to be caught dead or alive in the Jedi robes that Basi favored. Beyond anything else she felt about the Jedi, Lal had come to the conclusion that they seemed to possess no sense of fashion.

Lal stepped out of the cabin, orbited by a steadily chirping Ay-Vee. She thought about ordering him to leave her alone, but she had sort of missed his constant curiosity. She found no one awake on the central deck, and when she peeked into the cockpit, she found Carth snoozing in the pilot's seat, with a blanket draped over him. Probably couldn't stand Wookiee snoring in the cabin set aside for the boys. Of course, Wookiees released other bodily noises that were far more disruptive to slumber.

Lal considered waking Carth up. She wanted to talk. To kiss. To touch him. But she thought about what Bastila had told her about Jedi, and about…being with others…Scorn darkened her thoughts and she considered it quite a foolish thing to be celibate out of fear. And then, she wondered if it was that sort of thinking that had found her in the company of Revan and Malak. She watched Carth for a moment longer, listening to the breaths he took, and then, in silence, she left the _Ebon Hawk._

She left the landing pad and found herself wandering within the halls of the Jedi chambers. Her steps were idle and unguided as she slowly walked through the corridors. If she closed her eyes and held her breath, she could almost her the tumbling of tiny feet, children running through the corridors on their way to class. She imagined an entire pack of little Padawans in robes sized to just barely fit their little bodies…arguing, teasing, giggling. That's what children did.

But what about Jedi children? Did they laugh or cry? Did they fidget in line and dally in the halls? Did they tattletale and pass notes? Did they skin their knees?

Were they children at all?

She glanced down at her hands and held them up before her eyes. Hands such as these, learnéd in the skills of death and of life, they did not grow so talented overnight, but over a lifetime, almost from birth. It had to be so for the skills to come to her even though her memories had not. Abilities so engrained as to become instinct. Like walking. The children of the Jedi had to have their lessons pounded into them from a very young age. No time to be children. No time to laugh and be silly and play games and run and run and run all day. No time for these things when the goal was to become a Jedi.

And is that why she rebelled? Is that what caused her to follow Revan and Malak? And how far was she from the darkness, then?

"I see I am not alone in my midnight wanderings," a sibilant voice rolled through the air. Lal followed the voice into the interior courtyard, dominated by the massive twisting tree. The Cathar Jedi, Juhani sat on one of the permacrete benches surrounding the tree, with a silvery blanket wrapped snugly about her narrow shoulders. The mane of pale blonde hair that had streamed wild and free in the Grove was now bound tightly into two jagged tufts at the back of her skull, revealing her striped satiny skin and sharply pointed ears. Downy white fur gathered along the edges of her ears and trailed down the rear of her jaw. Dark slitted pupils floated in shining green pools as her eyes flickered at Lal. Lal noticed claws flexing in and out of the woman's fingertips as she clutched the blanket tightly to her.

"It is not cold," Juhani went on in a soft purring voice, "but for some reason, I have a chill I cannot shake."

Lal moved to sit on a bench near the Cathar and crossed her legs. She released a sigh and watched Juhani intently. "I believe I dreamed of you," Lal told her.

Juhani glanced down and to the side, her eyes narrowing into slits as she ground her sharp chin against her shoulder. "It is possible. I have felt a mind touching mine at times."

"You were younger. On Taris. I think I met you there. Do you remember me?"

"I was a slave of Tanka. Born into slavery because of my mother. I remember meeting many Jedi at that time. I was freed by the Jedi." She turned her head towards Lal and opened her mouth. She inhaled sharply, through both her mouth and her nose, tasting and scenting the air at the same time. "I'm sorry. I do not recognize you. But I know your name. The Council told me who you are. I must beg forgiveness for my…savagery in the Grove. I can offer no excuses to you, but sometimes, my people are…we can be…It is difficult to explain. Forgive me."

"I think I can understand."

"No," Juhani said, her eyes widening suddenly into slanted moons. "You cannot. I lost myself and my mind in the red of the hunting eye. When the existence of my people was defined by blood and by the scent of fear on the flesh. When the world was an endless savannah and when we ran on four taloned feet. It is a dishonorable state. Shameful."

Lal sighed and glanced down at her knees. "I suppose I was lost in such a time. A similar frame of mind. For three years. That is how I lived."

Juhani cocked her head to the side and stared at Lal with heavily lidded eyes for a long space of time. "I can hear the truth in your voice. You have known such things. Forgive my presumption, please. To be wild, to act with killing instinct, it is to be insane. A terrible thing." She nodded. "Yes, it is so. Do you seek redemption as well?"

"I…I don't know. Maybe. I have lost my memory beyond the past three years. But I see…visions…slices of my life."

Juhani nodded reverently. "To have visions is a great honor among my people. It means you are born with a great fate. Much is to be expected of a person with such a fate."

"I'd rather not have that fate, to be honest."

"You have no choice. Fate is fate. It is so. There are many tragic tales of Cathar who have ignored or shunned their fate only to suffer for it. You must understand your fate and learn to walk with it."

"For three years, my…fate has been determined by men who sought to use me. Now, other men are doing the same thing."

Juhani shook her head and sighed deeply. "You misunderstand me. No man can tell you your fate. Many might try. It is said that only the Mother in the Moon can say your fate. And that learning your fate can take an entire lifetime. It is learned in the trees and skies, and in the soil beneath your claws. It is learned in the water that slakes your thirst, in the meat you chew." She chuckled bitterly. "That is the Cathar way of saying, 'only life can teach you how to live.'"

Lal smiled. "So, what happened to you, Juhani?"

"Hmm?"

"How did you come to be trapped in that…in the Grove?"

"It is not something I would speak on with a stranger," Juhani replied. "But you took it as your task to pull me from the grip of the Shadow. In doing so, you became _Sharrr-kaa_ to me."

Lal frowned and shook her head. "I don't think I understand that term…"

"It does not translate well," Juhani told her. "Sometimes, when a cub is lost, she can be guided by another that is not her mother. I suppose a human might say an 'aunt' or a 'godmother.' Maybe a sister. I do not know. They become bound almost as if through blood. But not so."

Lal found herself thinking of Mission. "Ah. I think I understand. To a degree. I am…honored, of course, but I think my path will lead me in a different direction, I'm afraid."

Juhani shrugged, as if it did not matter to her in the slightest. "As I said, I saw the red hunting eye. Anger and pride overcame me. A failing of my kind. It is said that Akaa, first son of the Mother stared down into a pool of clear water when he took his first drink of life and became enamored of his beauty. He was so lovely that he forgot the face of his Mother and knew only his own greatness. His eye grew red with his own terrible beauty and his killing strength. I saw my own beauty and it blinded me to the beauty that was around me."

"Um…"

"Sorry," Juhani smiled apologetically. "I became arrogant…I thought…I thought I could not be taught anything more. My pride became too great, and my Master was displeased. She drew…she drew her lightsaber to instruct me in a lesson of pride, and I saw only the threat bunched in her shoulders. I called on the strength of pride and struck her down. The shame caught and gripped me as I saw what I had done, and I ran. That is how you found me."

"So that is what you meant when I found you. You were going on about having killed someone. Your Master. I am sorry."

"I came back to answer for my crime, you see. When I was brought before the Council, my Master stood there, unharmed…! It had been a test…and I failed miserably. So. And I do not think I am meant to be a Jedi. All my life I have been a slave. And I remain a slave to my rage…my cowardice. I have meditated on this."

"Bastila does a lot of that."

Juhani nodded slowly. "She is your sister? Yes, I have heard of Bastila Shan. She is what I aspire to be."

"Really?"

"Oh yes. Bastila has been a great force of justice and good. It is so."

"I…I only recently learned she is my sister…mostly, we tend to argue a lot…"

Juhani smiled. She rose to walk silently over, and sat beside Lal, pressing close against her. "Sisters argue. I have heard it is so. It is good to have sisters." She reached out and caressed Lal's cheek with the back of her hand, and she smiled again. "What value is a sister who always agrees with you? Truth can only be found in words when they clash. A sister will always tell you the truth. I wish I had a sister. Of all my mother's cubs, only I survived. We lived in poverty in the Undercity before I was born. My mother's body was not healthy. I miss my sisters, even though I never knew them."

Lal found herself smiling as she thought of Basi and Mission. "Yes, I suppose it is good to have sisters."

Juhani nodded and stared at Lal. "You do not wear the robes of a Jedi, but I sense the Force within you. Have you decided that it is also not your fate to be a Jedi?"

"I…I don't know. But I will tell you something, Juhani. You won't learn your…your _fate_ by merely sitting and meditating. Didn't you just say that only life can teach you how to live?"

"I…well…yes. It is so." Juhani chuckled softly and gazed at Lal with glittering eyes. She rose and let her blanket fall down her bare shoulders a bit. Lal saw that the slender Cathar wore only a short shift over her sleek, pale body. In her memory from Taris, she had seen the girl wearing far less. Clearly, their time on Taris had instilled a similar sense of fashion…

"I wish very much to have a bath," Juhani announced. "Do you want to join me?"

Lal arched an eyebrow. "Ah…how's that?"

"A bath. There is a heated spring beneath this chamber. There are stones upon which you can strrr-etch! It has always been a place of tremendous comfort to me."

"Actually, I just took a sonic shower…"

"So? One can never ever be _too_ clean. Besides, sonic showers have a bad sound to them. It is not good for the ears. The warm water is gooood…" She tugged on Lal's hand and pulled her to her feet.

"Ah…well, I suppose…But…you see, it's just that I don't have swimsuit is all…"

"What would you need a swimsuit for? We are not swimming."

"I…okay."

* * *

The next morning, Lal was summoned to the Council chambers, and hastened to put her clothes on. She was still stuffing her foot into her boot when Bastila found her in the corridor. Lal's hair was still damp from bathing with Juhani, and it hung in a slack sheet down her back. Bastila frowned at her as she tied up her boots and straightened her tunic.

"Where were you last night, Lal? I came back to the ship after midnight, but you were gone. I wanted to talk…"

"I'm sorry, Basi. I woke up in the middle of the night and…and went for a walk. I found Juhani and we chatted for a long while. Then we went down to the spring and…_bathed."_

"Bathed?"

Lal nodded. "Bathed. Bathes are apparently very big with the Cathar."

"So you…took a bath with her?"

"Well…it was…we sort of bonded."

"Oh…Lal, I…did you…and she…Well, I mean to say…did you…"

"Did we what, Basi?"

Bastila opened her mouth and closed it again. "Lal…you do know about…well, they say that Cathar females are…well…you know…"

Lal shook her head and frowned in confusion. "Bastila, would you just spit it…oh…ohhhh." She chuckled and shook her head. "Basi, I'm utterly shocked. I find it hard to believe that a Jedi such as yourself would judge someone based on their choice of--"

"Lal! I would never make such a judgment on anyone! That's not…I mean…well, the Jedi have very strict codes on this sort of…_fraternization_! First you and Carth, and now…"

Lal chuckled and laid a hand on her sister's shoulder. "Oh, I'm simply teasing you, Basi. We both got into the water and talked. It was a bit strange at first, but it was really very innocent. And pleasant. We talked all night. Besides, as you mentioned, there _is _the matter of Carth…"

"Oh Lal!" Bastila cried, throwing her hands up. "You're simply impossible, you know?"

Lal slid her arm around Bastila's shoulders and laughed, hugging the young woman close. "You're so very correct, Basi."

"You two talking about me?" Carth called out, hustling down the corridor to join them. He was still strapping his gun belt around his slender hips as he walked.

"As if we have nothing better to speak about, Captain Onasi," Lal smiled at him. "_Really._"

"Captain Onasi," he grinned back at her. "That's what I like to hear. Respect."

"Carth, what are you doing here?" Bastila asked, slipping free from Lal's embrace.

"Council sent a messenger," he explained. "Finally someone's gonna tell me what the hell is going on."

The three of them walked together into the Council chamber, where Master Vandar, Master Vrook, Master Zhar and Master Dorak stood conversing among each other. In the adjoining chamber, a silver-haired woman in a long gray tunic sat with her legs crossed at a computer terminal. Before her, there hovered a holographic sphere of blue light, like the Starmap Lal had seen in the ruins. Lal noticed the woman wore a beaded veil over her eyes.

Lal leaned close to Bastila to whisper in her ear. "Who is that?"

"Master Madra Minda," Bastila replied. "Juhani's Master. She was a member of the Council on Koruba, but stepped down some years ago to take on Padawans once more."

"She's Mirulakan, isn't she?"

Bastila nodded. "She sees without eyes. Very powerful Jedi."

"Ah, Lal, Bastila," Zhar smiled, giving them both a nod. "Captain Onasi. Glad you could join us. Captain, I must apologize for the way we've been keeping you like this. But all shall be made clear. I'd like to thank you all on behalf of this body for bringing Master Nemo back to us…his loss will affect us all."

The Council members nodded reverently.

"To get down to business," Vrook began gruffly, "the reason we've called you here is to discuss this Starmap business. Bastila explained the Starforge and Master Dorak has been researching it most of the night."

"Does that mean you know what it is?" Lal asked, folding her arms across her breasts.

"We agree with your assessment that it is some sort of device that can apparently mass produce star ships," Dorak said. "The beings referred to in the data files as the Makers seem to have crafted this device to build a fleet with which to rule the galaxy. Interestingly enough, a large number of cultures have legends and myths which make mention of a race of…_progenitor beings_; ancient creatures of a powerful intellect who came before the other races. Given the similarity of creation mythologies on a number of worlds, I've often speculated--"

"Er…yes," Vandar cut in smoothly. "Ancient are these Makers. Likely it seems that they built the ruins on this planet, as claimed the computer you encountered. So advanced their technology was as to seem almost like magic. Always, rumors have they been. However, denied the evidence cannot be. And it seems, gotten hold of their technology Revan and Malak did. When over the Mandalorian War was, Revan and Malak disappeared beyond the Outer Rim. No one knows where go they did. What they found. Until now, it seems."

"It is difficult to be entirely certain," Dorak went on, "but there is mention within the files of a 'non-zero energy'…an energy that permeates the very fabric of the universe, apparently. The files mentioned the Makers being capable of tapping this energy in some unknown way to power their technologies. It seems logical that this was their way of describing the Force, in terms their science could grasp."

"Obviously, their so-called science was incapable of understanding the deep mysteries of the Force," Vrook put in. "Beings have tried to tap the Force before using devices…always unsuccessfully. And always with dark consequences."

"Yes…indeed," Zhar said. "Lal, we conferred all night with the archives at the temple on Coruscant, trying to decipher the Starmap. We feel it shows the way to the location of the Starforge. Unfortunately, the map is not entirely complete. That is to say, even accounting for forty-thousand odd years of stellar drift, we've still been unable to decipher it. There seems to be some bit of code missing from the data files."

"I thought we downloaded everything that was there," Lal said.

Zhar nodded. "We tend to agree. It's like the code was purposely left out. Mind you, we've had slicer droids analyzing the lines of code all night. These are very complex droids, and they seem capable of translating only a fraction of the code."

"Mmm," Vandar grunted. "Jumbled the Starmap is. Tried, we did to correlate positions of stars, but beyond us the task is. Perhaps if a few years had we to spend…but we do not. Of the essence time is. Steadily growing and consolidating have Malak's forces been. Turned aside Revan's fleet did the Republic, but too great the attrition was. Still rebuilding are they ships lost in that battle, whereas Malak has the resources of the Starforge."

"So what does that mean?" Carth asked. "I mean, are you saying the Republic has no chance of defeating Malak? We can't find this Starforge, so that's that?"

"Of course not, Captain," Vandar replied with a scowl, shaking his head. "Master Minda, join us if you would…"

The Mirulakan woman rose in an elegant sweep of her long tunic and drifted down to join them as if her feet didn't even touch the floor. Her silver tresses fell in winding sheets that framed her high cheeks. She lifted her head, seeming to focus just beyond Lal and the others. "Lal Shan, it is an honor to finally meet you. Your sister has told me of your efforts to assist us. And I thank you for returning my dear Juhani to us. Captain, it is also an honor to make your acquaintance as well. You might not recall, but I have worked with you before. Do you remember when the _Hammer_ was sent to Geonosis some years back?"

"That was you?" he gasped in surprise.

She nodded once, her face turning just past him. "And a cadre of Koruban Jedi, yes." She smiled. "The very pillars of heaven were shaken that day as I recall. At any rate, to answer your question, hope is not yet lost. Long ago, the Koruban people fled their homeworld because of a global catastrophe…they had an extensive library on matters dealing with the progenitors…the Makers. Most of those records were destroyed. But there does remain an account of a number of Maker repositories spread across the galaxy; ancient stores of knowledge held by these godlike beings in the eons before men walked upright. Some of these repositories still exist, like here on Dantooine. It stands to reason that these places may contain further information that could unravel the Starmap and provide the key to the location of the Starforge."

She turned her sightless gaze back to Lal and sighed heavily. "Lal, it seems destiny is working in strange ways. You see, many years ago, an archeological dig unearthed some ruins that had great importance to Koruban scholars, but, unfortunately, not anyone else outside of academia. But, ah…_hindsight_ being what it is, we believe that this dig is of particular significance to this quest. Your father was head of that dig, on Tatooine."

"What?" Lal grunted in surprise.

"We spoke with Bastila about this last night," Madra Minda said. "It is sometimes odd how destiny guides our steps."

"Let me get this straight," Lal said, holding up a hand. "You're telling me the key to the Starmap is being unearthed…by my father?"

"Lal," Zhar joined in, "we believe that you must go to Tatooine and discover what your father found." He waited for this to sink in before continuing. "Captain Onasi, we have conferred with Republic Armed Forces Command. You've been ordered to escort Lal and Bastila in this quest." Zhar produced a data rod from a pocket within his robe. He stepped forward and passed it to Carth.

Carth turned the rod over and saw that it was stamped with the High Command's holographic seal.

"The specifics of your mission parameters are contained within," Vrook told Carth. "Of course, we could provide you with a ship if that's required…"

"The _Ebon Hawk_ should suit our purposes just fine," Carth said, his brow creased by some unvoiced concern.

"As you wish, Captain," Vrook shrugged. "We were concerned that it might be too visible, especially if Darth Malak knows it was you and Lal who stole the ship."

"We didn't _steal_ it exactly," Lal protested. "Well, we did…but the alternative was to get obliterated…"

"Of course," Vrook nodded.

"Besides," Lal went on, "the _Hawk_ is the fastest ship I've seen. Unless you've got a ship that can match point five…?"

"So you agree to undertake this mission," Vrook said.

"Oh, it's not as if I have a choice, now is it?" Lal sighed elaborately. "You know I won't turn down the opportunity to find my parents. And…I suppose…I'm the best person for the job, aren't I?"

"Lal," Zhar said, "I understand your desire to meet your parents, but you must understand that there is a higher priority here."

"I do understand that. I'm understanding it more and more with every little bit that I find out. But that doesn't change my…my feelings one bit."

"Serve you well, your feelings do, Lal," Vandar told her. "But protect them you must. Likely it is that the Sith will you face in this quest. Always a danger is the Dark Side. And powerful are its servants. No time have we had to instruct you properly, but faith do we have in you. In who you once were, and who you will be again."

Lal glanced down for a moment, shoving down a sudden wave of anger at their flattery, at their attempts to withhold information from her. "Alright. You have faith in me. I must admit that I am of two minds in this. On the one hand, I feel that is a tremendous…_honor_ to me. To be trusted by Jedi after the past three years of my life. Who would have thought? But on the other hand…I know you have kept things from me. I know that you still are keeping things from me. If you have faith in me, then you owe me the full truth."

Vrook snarled angrily. "Lal, you--"

Zhar cut in smoothly. "We have held things back from you, Lal, trusting in your ability to discover them on your own. In your own time. You may not believe this, but it has been done for your own safety. The mind can only heal in its own time. We took a tremendous risk in revealing your past as a Jedi Knight. Not because it is a danger to us, Lal…but because it was a danger to you. Not only did it put you at risk to the Dark Side, but it also put your mental health in jeopardy. If we had the time, we would have undertook extensive therapy, to ease you back into your former life. I can only imagine the pain and confusion and horror you must have come to know these past few days, being at odds with your life on Taris, and your life as a Jedi. Most people would not be able to stand up beneath the mental strain.

"But what questions do you have, Lal?" he went on. "What do you wish to know that we have not tried to answer?"

"I want to know why I took Sideen's name. I want to know why my voice was recorded entering a security code that Revan and Malak used in those ruins. I want to know what I was doing with them! All I have been given are hints and evasiveness! Why…why won't you trust me with the truth?"

"We already told you that we could only speculate about Sideen Ralli," Vrook said.

Lal narrowed her eyes at him. "And you used a mind trick to try and convince me of this."

Vrook's eyes widened in surprise and his cheeks turned red. He glanced at his fellows and lowered his gaze. "I…you're right." He sighed and lifted his eyes to meet Lal's glare. "It was a mistake for which I apologize. But the simple fact is, Lal…we don't know why you took her name as your own. There is no way to know. I honestly don't know why you have placed such an importance on this…Sideen was your friend and she died trying to protect you. What is important is that you always remember this. And in a way, you have. Do you understand?"

Lal nodded as Vrook's words moved through her, leaving a shivering chill in their wake. He was right. He might have used his Jedi trick upon her, but she couldn't deny the truth of his words now. Or the pain they summoned from a distant corner of her thoughts. "I…I…"

For the first time ever, Vrook's constant scowl softened. "I…suppose I have been…unduly harsh to you, Lal. Padawans know that I am a harsh teacher…but that I am also fair. And, I admit that I have not been…fair with you. We've told you that you have always held the greatest promise that we have seen. Well, I tell you now that this is true. I tell you…that…that there is not a member of this Council who has not seen their hopes made manifest by you. Including…me. Though you did fall…and though that did…_affect_ me greatly, I uh…I have no doubt in your ability to do this task."

Lal's mouth dropped open and her eyes blinked in shock at his words. "I…I…th-thank you…"

Vrook chuckled gruffly and forced a scowl back onto his face. "So. I'll ask you to accept the apology of a stubborn old man…and to understand that you and your sister are very dear to us."

Zhar grinned and leaned over to Vrook. "That must have been hard, hmm?"

Vrook rolled his eyes. "You have no idea…"

Zhar nodded and turned his gaze back to Lal. "We have told you that you did join Malak and Revan. Like them, you took your first steps towards becoming…a different person than the Lal Shan we knew. You stand before us…so tremendously changed…But at times, we see the old Lal. Perhaps…perhaps the old Lal could not have survived the life to which she was exposed. Perhaps…who you are…perhaps it is for the best. And we must get to know the new Lal still. Personally, I'll take what I can get! But Lal, do not allow yourself to be troubled by the things you have learned. When you find yourself in greatest doubt, remember the choices that you have made in these past few days. They have defined you more truly than the past three years of your life ever could. You are the Lal Shan who has been protecting others ever since she was a small girl. There is no other truth. I'm sure other memories will surface, but this one truth is what must guide you: you are exactly who you were meant to be."

Lal wasn't certain she understood what Zhar meant by that. And she wasn't sure she'd ever be a true Jedi again. But for now, her questions had been put aside. Not answered, no. But perhaps, for the first time, those questions no longer needed immediate answers. Maybe they could wait.

She glanced at Bastila, who stared at her with such beaming hope that it squeezed Lal's heart. Carth cocked his head towards her with a crooked smile, his lips all but promising her a kiss. Lal sighed and turned to face the Council once more. "Well, I suppose we have work to do then, don't we?"

"One more thing there is, Lal," Vandar said, his green eyes twinkling. "A request from Master Minda."

The blind Madra Minda stepped forward and took Lal's hands in hers. "Lal, as I told you, you have my deepest gratitude for rescuing Juhani. She does not remember it clearly, but when you were on Taris, you were one of the Jedi who released her from a life of servitude. And you continued to safeguard her path when she was consumed with rage. I feel I have done her a disservice…but I thought it was best for her…for her to learn the lure of the Dark Side on her own. At any rate, I have asked the Council to honor my request in this, and they've agreed. Now it falls to you: I believe that Juhani will learn a great deal from you and Bastila. And even your noble friends. She is innocent and young, and perhaps a bit excitable…but she has learned all I can teach her. I ask that you take her with you."

"I…I'm no teacher, Master Minda…"

"Well, perhaps you are and perhaps you are not. But you can guide her just the same. And you will benefit from her presence and skill."

"Lal," Bastila added, "if we come up against Sith, and we likely will, we'll need every ally we can get."

Madra Minda nodded. "Redemption is something we all deserve, after all."

"Alright, Master Minda," Lal said, squeezing the woman's hands. "She'll be welcome. I like her anyway. But I'm not putting on a robe…" Madra Minda smiled and nodded.

Dorak walked up to Lal and handed her a data rod. "Lal, this contains all the information you downloaded…including the Starmap. When you find the Starmap code, you should be able to upload it and collate the data. Once you have it, return here and we'll discuss what should be done."

"With all due respect," Lal said, taking the rod, "if we find the rest of the map, wouldn't it just make sense to go and find the Starforge?"

"Let's not be hasty, Lal," Dorak said. "Revan and Malak…they went to find the Starforge, and what they found…it consumed them. You are not ready to face that. Not alone. None of us is. First things first. If you discover the location of the Starforge, we'll likely be sending an entire strike force to destroy it. We don't wish to take any chances."

"I suppose that's logical," Lal shrugged.

"Well," Carth began, "I reckon we should get a move on. We can have the _Hawk_ prepped and ready for dust-off within the hour. Is there anything else?"

"Only this," Vrook said, clearing his throat as he addressed them all. "May the Force be with you."

* * *

Beyond the swollen green sphere of Dantooine, beyond the luminous tides of verdant sunlight lapping over the planet, in the trackless black sea of space, a flash of silver pierced the darkness, and a gleaming sword stabbed forth from the wilds of hyperspace. Time dilated around the prow of the Sith assault vessel with a streaking blur. Behind the craft, a number of smaller ships blazed into real-space, roaring into picket formation. Ten ships in all, ranging in size from tiny combat frigates with manipular-thrust vanes flexing and articulating wide for deceleration to pot-bellied, hammer-prowed destroyers, cruising close alongside the blade-shaped _Huntress_, which lead the pack of spacecraft.

Darth Bandon stormed onto the bridge in a whirl of black robes and swiveled his shaven skull across the command and operations personnel on deck. Commander Fell walked up crisp and sharp in her gray uniform and fired off a salute. "Lord Bandon," she addressed him with only a hint of a smile upon her lips, "We have dropped out of Hyperspace one hundred million kilometers from the planet. They have had no time to detect us."

Bandon shared her smile, as he had shared other things with her. He gave a curt nod and walked to the front of the Bridge to gaze out the forward view screen down at Dantooine laying helpless and innocent far below. Fell followed behind him, her body taut and ready to uncoil at his merest word.

Bandon clasped his hands behind his back as his master so often did, and glanced over his shoulder to Fell. "I trust the fighter wings are prepped for quick-drop?"

"Quick-drop and deploy is confirmed, my Lord," she replied. "Will you give the word, Lord?"

He chuckled at her eagerness and glanced back down to the planet. "The word is given."

She whirled and immediately began firing off orders to the crew in a harsh, powerful voice that did not fit her small frame. But no one hesitated or questioned her authority. She held the favor of a Dark Lord of the Sith, after all.

Within five minutes, a swarm of tiny silver-winged snubfighters washed out from their quick-drop cradles in the _Huntress's_ sleek belly, and roared across his view screen to descend in thick rolling waves upon unsuspecting Dantooine. At the same time, as per Bandon's plan, the picket ships spread out to blockade any attempts to flee the planet.

"Forces are deployed, my Lord," Fell reported, "all fighters are away."

"Excellent. It is only a matter of time now."

"Commander Fell," the communications officer called out, "receiving another transmission from Calo Nord…" Fell joined her comm officer and leaned over the back of the man's chair to stare at his display screen.

She turned to Bandon. "Text only. He claims that you will wish to join the ground assault, my Lord."

For a brief instant, Lal Shan's face passed before his mind's eye. His fists clenched and he recalled her, as a child, striking him down with her own tiny fists, defending her dear little Basi. Bandon had always wanted to make her pay for that. He didn't allow his rage to control him usually, but perhaps, this time, he would do just that. Show her how much he had grown up. And then, he would take Bastila before Lal's body grew cold and her eyes lost their sight.

"Commander," he hissed, "have my personal launch prepped. A killing time has now fallen among us…"

* * *

"I am quite honored that you have agreed to allow me to join your mission, Lal," Juhani said in a rolling purr as she fastened her sleeveless red tunic. Lal watched with folded arms as Juhani stepped into the tall brown leather boots she had seen the Jedi wear. Juhani strapped on a wide belt around her impossibly narrow waist, and the corded muscles in her slender arms flared as she cinched the belt closed.

"Mmm," Lal murmured. "Say, where did you get those boots?"

"Oh, from the Rodian importer with the kiosk…the one outside the compound. "He is not to be trusted, but has a fine selection of off-world leather goods."

"I can't believe this," Bastila chuckled, shaking her head.

"What?" Juhani and Lal asked at the same time.

"Oh nothing," Bastila sighed. "The boots are…quite lovely." She glanced at Lal and went on, "I think she'll get along fine with Mission…"

Juhani strapped on her lightsaber and slung a small bag over her bare shoulder. "I believe I am ready."

"Alright," Lal began. "Lets--"

The ground suddenly rocked, thrusting the women nearly from their feet. Thunder crashed through the air immediately after, and a flare of heat burned through the open window in Juhani's room.

"Now what?" Lal growled, pressing her back against the wall and taking a swift peek out the window.

"Are we under attack?" Juhani gasped.

"It would so seem," Bastila nodded, gripping her lightsaber. "That's no orbital bombardment…those sound like seismic charges…"

As if to punctuate her statement, the air exploded with a clanging burst of sound, and a shockwave blurred across the courtyard beyond the window.

"Down!" Lal screamed, hurling herself to the floor. Bastila and Juhani dropped down as well, an instant before the plaster of the wall blew over them in a stinging cloud of ceramic shrapnel.

"By the Mother!" Juhani hissed, covering her face and head.

"We have to get to the _Hawk_!" Bastila whispered hotly.

Lal didn't fancy leaving the cover afforded to them inside, but knew Basi was right. She lifted her wrist comm to her face and spoke into it. "Carth! Are you ready to launch?"

"Lal, the entire Enclave is being assaulted by Sith snubbies!" he called back. "Sensors are picking up troop carriers, E.T.A. five minutes!"

"Right," Lal nodded, glancing at Bastila and Juhani. "We're leaving."

The three women dashed out of the doorway into an adjoining corridor. Jedi and Padawans dashed back and forth as debris showered them and the floor rocked from another blast. Belaya stepped out of her quarters and nearly collided into the three of them as the floor trembled again.

"Is it the Sith?" Belaya cried, glancing around wildly. Fire burst through a section of wall before them, hurling all of them onto their backs. The roof caved inwards less than a meter away, blocking their path.

Lal leaped immediately to her feet and leaped through the fiery hole in the wall. "Come on!"

She whirled around and saw that a pile of rubble had crushed whomever had been in this room. Belaya gasped in shock as she saw the crushed body. "Jorno…" she murmured.

"We can't do anything for him, Belaya," Bastila said, tugging the younger woman behind her.

Lal led the way out of that room and through the burning Jedi Enclave. They ran through the twisting, rumbling corridors, dashing past the corpses of Jedi and civilians alike.

"What about the Council?" Juhani moaned. "We cannot leave them here! They are too important…"

Lal was certain they didn't have the time for this. But as she glanced at the pale, drawn faces of her sister and Juhani and Belaya, she realized they'd make the time somehow. "Alright, the three of you, go on to the ship. Get anyone else alive you can. Get them on the ship. I'll get the Council out."

"Lal!" Bastila said sharply, "you cannot do it alone!"

"And she won't," Belaya nodded. "I'll go with her."

"Lal," Bastila murmured, gripping Lal's arm tightly, "you'd better make it…"

Lal sighed and hugged her sister tightly, stroking her hair. "Don't be silly, Basi. Now go."

She released Bastila, and shoved her away. Lal nodded at Belaya, and the two of them hurried down the corridor that led to the Council chamber while Juhani and Bastila ran out of the compound. Lal rushed into the central courtyard, where the tree she had admired now lay ripped and shattered in smoking, burning ruin. Glass shards glittered upon the ground in between torn shafts of molten steel. They moved quickly through the courtyard, hurling themselves into the air to cross the burning corpse of the tree and made their way into the Council Chamber.

Lal could not help but skid to a halt and stare open mouthed at what she saw. The roof had collapsed and heavy stone slabs from above stabbed down into the chamber. Fires raged in pockets of chaos, and Lal saw…_pieces_…that a part of her mind recognized…

"Oh no," Belaya cried. "Is anyone alive…?"

"Lal!" a gruff, growling voice called from a pile of rubble. "What are you doing here?"

Lal turned and saw Master Vrook, trapped beneath a broken slab of permacrete. Her heart sank as she eyed the slab; it had to weigh at least ten tons…She dashed to his side, gripping his hand. The lower half of his body was completely hidden beneath the mass of fallen stone. Bright pink blood streamed from his mouth, and darker red gashes crowned his balding head. His hand clutched hers tightly, and he released a whispering cough.

"Lal…" he gasped.

"Okay, okay," she said softly, "you're fine…get a new coat of paint on and you'll be just like new…"

"Lal," Belaya said, "perhaps together we can lift this…?"

"No," Vrook shook his head, trembling. "No use in it…"

Lal wondered if she was actually capable of lifting so huge a weight. She could not simply leave him in this condition, though. She turned and nodded at Belaya, but Vrook squeezed her hand suddenly.

"I said no…If the weight is moved…no. I am done for, Lal," Vrook sighed, closing his eyes and coughing again. "No power will stop my death now…And you have not the time to waste on the likes of me."

Lal shook her head. "But…"

"Gah…always arguing. You were always such a rebel," he murmured. "And it always got you into trouble…"

"I…I'm sorry I was so difficult, Master Vrook," she said in a tiny voice, kneeling over him.

"Per-perhaps…I c-could have been a bit…more…understanding. Dear child…you cannot stay here…If you die…all will be lost…no one else can…beat M-Malak…"

"Master Vrook…"

"Dorak…Vandar…I don't think they made it, Lal…Zhar tried to…it was no use. And then, this happened. Lal…you need to go. Now."

"But I…"

"Go!" he told her, his voice crumbling. "Go. I will be at peace."

Lal squeezed her eyes shut and lowered her head. She laid a hand gently on his chest and summoned up the words, "May the Force be with you, Master Vrook…"

He smiled at her and nodded weakly. Then, his head sagged and the tension fled from the muscles in his neck, and a long breath fled from his lips. Lal sighed and pushed herself to her feet. She glanced to Belaya and said, "The Council is gone. No reason for us to be here anymore."

A tear rolled down Belaya's soot-smudged cheek. The two of them broke into a swift run as another explosion rocked the chamber. Lal pushed herself, feeling a dull, numb coldness growing in her belly. Her legs pumped like pistons as she ran, and the crumbling walls rushed by in a blur. In a matter of seconds, she and Belaya were at the exit from the Enclave. Clouds of dark smoke smudged the sky and fire spewed in great trembling spears from the buildings of the Enclave. Sith fighters swept by overhead, dueling in clusters with the few Jedi Sweep-wings that managed to get some sky before the brunt of the attack.

But that wasn't so much what worried Lal.

"Where is your ship?" Belaya asked, a sharp tinge of nervousness wavering in her voice.

"I don't--"

"Lal!" A voice called out. Lal whipped around to see Zhar running up to her, his robes spreading out behind him as he moved. "Why are you still here? I thought you left in the _Ebon Hawk_!"

She noticed blood streaming down the side of his face, and smeared on his tunic. He gripped his lightsaber tightly. Before she could respond, he went on, "Sith troops have landed. We're holding them at the main gate, but others are continuing to land. Minda and I got separated in the fighting…"

"The _Hawk_ should be here," Lal said, scowling up into the sky.

"I guess it's possible your friends had to leave," Belaya murmured, glancing about wildly, "But that leaves us…"

"Calm yourself, Padawan," Zhar said, laying a hand on Belaya's shoulder.

Belaya swallowed and nodded. "Forgive me, Master Zhar."

"We've got to get you out of here, Lal," Zhar said. "My fear is that the Sith are looking for you and Bastila…"

"But how would Malak have found out about me?" she asked.

Zhar's eyes widened and he shoved Lal to the ground. "Down!" he cried. As Lal fell, she heard a wet thunk. She glanced up and saw Zhar staring past her with a stricken glare. He suddenly sank to his knees, and she saw a dark stain spread upon his chest. A small dart stood forth from the front of his robe.

"Well, now, I told him, I reckon…"

Lal turned and rose to her feet. "Calo Nord," she hissed, glaring at the squat barrel of a man, in his armored jacket and dark goggles. "Bounty hunting piece of slime."

"I get that a lot."

"You should be dead," Lal told him. She drew forth her lightsaber and ignited both blades. "Time to remedy that."

"Ah. New toys." His twin blasters leaped suddenly into his hands and he fired with a sneer. A volley of energy blasts seared towards her.

Lal held forth her lightsaber and spun it before her. Light flashed brightly as the weapon caught each shot and deflected it. Lal whipped around in a circle, catching each blast as he fired. Growling, he emptied each blaster's battery on her, and whirling like an autumn storm, spinning her blade like an angry wind, she thrust away every shot he fired.

He lowered his smoking blasters and took a step back in disbelief. Lal sucked in a deep breath, took a step towards him, pivoted around and dropped into a low stance. She held her weapon up above her head and held her other hand towards him.

And waved him forward.

"That's…a very nice trick," Calo muttered, struggling to eject the spent batteries and replace them.

"Calo," Lal hissed, "you have always been last year's model. I'm going to kill you. For what you've done. To Mission. To Zhar. And to me."

She swept her hand in his direction and both his blasters went flying across the courtyard. And bared his teeth in a nervous smile and took another step backwards. He glanced around and chuckled sourly. "Heh. Alright. You've always had the playing field leveled in your favor, haven't you? Now I know why. It's always been easy for you, hasn't it, Sideen? Killing? Whoring? Lying? Second nature to you."

Lal glanced down at Master Zhar gasping and bleeding on the ground. Belaya knelt at his side, her hand pressed to the wound in his chest. Lal turned her glare back to Calo. "I suppose it has been. Is that your problem, Calo? Were you upset that, no matter how much you tried, you just weren't good at being a whore?"

"That's good," he snarled. "Very good. Very clever. Good with the words, too…"

"Tell me what you're doing here, Calo," Lal said. "Was it vengeance that brought you here? For some perceived insult? Can you put your finger on it, Calo? Exactly what it was I did to you that's got your pride all bollicksed? Do you even know? Or is it your drive to merely inflict pain? Even if it means bringing yourself to ruin…"

"This ain't about me!" he roared. "It's about you. All about you. I signed on with a new player. Darth Malak. Oh sure, he might be big with the Sith and the Force and all that, but really, he's just another Low City player with a lot of muscle on his side. He wants you. And I've delivered you to him. Y'know, sure…I would have hunted you on my own, eventually…on general principle. Malak added an extra incentive to it though. Paycheck."

"People have hunted me before for money, Calo. Would you like to know what I told the last hired gun with the salt to come after me? While I held a knife to his throat? 'There are better ways to earn a living than dying.' You're not in it for the money, Calo. If that were true, there are a thousand other ways you could make a little cred. Or a bloody lot. No, for you, this is personal. And pathetic thug that you are, with barely the capability to rub together two idle whims to make a single thought, you don't even know why."

"Why…_why_ isn't a part of my vocabulary. Only…_why not_!" With a flick of his wrist, he hurled a dagger at her face and rolled towards one of his pistols.

Lal held up her hand and the dagger veered sharply away from her. Calo grabbed one of his pistols and came up in a crouch, jamming home a fresh battery charge. Lal bared her teeth and hurled her body into the air. She felt an electricity surging through her flesh as she soared high above the ground…the Force sang through her muscles and she felt it quite clearly. She landed on the balls of her feet directly in front of Calo and slashed her lightsaber through the barrel of his gun.

He gasped in surprise and danced backwards, but she took a step closer to him and swung her weapon again, humming and hissing through meat and muscle and bone. Calo shrieked and stumbled back as his right arm fell in a smoking slab on the ground. He dropped to his knees and his face blanched. Breathing raggedly, he glanced down at the molten stump that remained and his mouth opened in a silent howl. Clenching his teeth against the pain, he reached for his knife and brought it forth to tear into Lal.

Her lightsaber snarled and flashed again, and his hand fell free, still clutching his knife. With eyes bulging behind his goggles, Calo Nord fell onto his backside and he stared up at Lal with helpless fury.

She pointed the glowing tip of her weapon at his throat. "One thrust," she whispered to him hotly. "That's all it would take…But you're not really worth the effort, are you? You…you're already dead, Calo…you died a long time ago."

She placed her boot against his head and shoved him to the ground. She watched him churn and writhe in agony and she shook her head. "Don't let us meet again."

"Lal!" Belaya cried sharply.

Lal heard the snap hiss of a lightsaber igniting and she whirled. Belaya stood over Master Zhar's body with her saber drawn and blazing. Before the young Jedi there stood a man in black armor, segmented like the body of a poisonous insect. A black cloak shrouded his broad shoulders and fluttered in the whirling convection patterns stirred by the burning fires dancing nearby. His head was shaven but for a cruel goatee that framed a thin sneering smile. He turned his frozen eyes upon Lal even as he unleashed a crimson lightsaber that burned like an angry sun. Nearly a dozen Sith soldiers flanked him in gleaming silver armor, blaster rifles swinging towards Lal.

Lal saw something familiar in his face as he swaggered forward…

"So it's true," he said with a growl of anticipation. "The prodigal lives." He tossed a glance towards Calo and shook his head. "I must confess, I didn't believe Nord when he described you."

"Bandon," she whispered, recalling the little boy she had punched so long ago.

He inclined his head and chuckled. "You have an annoying capability to evade a good ending, you know. I suppose I should give you the opportunity to surrender…my Master wants you alive. But now that I look upon you, to see your beauty revealed once more, I'm starting to think that it may well simply be wiser to kill you. To do what my Master failed to."

Lal frowned in confusion as she listened to his words. "What did you say?"

He cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes at her. He swept his lightsaber in front of him experimentally, loosening the muscles in his arm. "Shall we get to it then?"

"Little B-Bandon," Master Zhar grunted, sweat beading upon his heavy brow. The Twi'lek master rose unsteadily to his feet, keeping one arm pressed tightly to his chest. He drew his lightsaber with his other hand and ignited it. "Still acting with…only an approximation of…prior th-thought I see…"

Bandon flicked his steely gaze at Zhar and sighed. "Aren't you dead yet? Specifically…the old order, have none of you relics realized that nature has selected you for extinction? You are the husk of the old way, blistered, flaking…splitting across the pristine spine of a new way. A new universe. Have the good sense to step out of the way and die."

"Ah," Zhar chuckled, forcing himself to stand upright. He took a deep breath and released it, and the tension of pain fled from his body. "Revisionist conceit. Bandon, you know, you have it quite reversed. It is the way of the Sith that is the old disease; the rot. A lie cannot be truth."

Bandon's lip curled into a sneer of disgust. "History will tell a different tale. Old man."

Zhar shook his head. "While it is true that history is told by the victors, Bandon, I remind you…you have not won yet. And, I'm not that old."

Bandon snorted and shrugged. "Isn't it strange, Lal?" he asked. "How so very willing they are to defend you now…when not so long ago, you were their enemy."

"You…you lie," Lal snarled, moving close to Zhar and Belaya.

"Oh no," Bandon smiled. "I do not. You fought against their order, their dominion as surely as I will soon split your belly open and spread your entrails on the ground with my bare hands. Believe it."

"Lal," Zhar said, "he twists what you already know to be true. Adding lies to uncertainty. That is the way of the Sith. In every person's life, good and evil will collide and choices must be made. In good conscience, beings with the power to stand, must do so, and take a side. You have already chosen yours. So stand!"

A choice…what choice had she ever been given? Taken from her parents and made to walk the path of a Jedi…taken from the Jedi and made to walk the path of an assassin…taken from that life and given the burden of being…a savior? And she had been given a choice in this?

But…perhaps she had been given a choice. A choice she had made from the very first days of life. Not a choice to stand on any side, no. But a choice, once standing, to take a step forward. She had always walked into her destiny, her fate.

And so, she walked now.

Lal twisted the hilt of her lightsaber, breaking it into two weapons, clutched tightly in both hands. Bandon smiled and nodded eagerly at her.

"I'm so glad," he hissed. He held up his hand and swung it towards Lal, Zhar and Belaya. "Burn them down!"

Upon his order, his Sith troops opened fire. Lal swallowed a bit of acid in her throat and felt electricity shoot down her spine as a wave of crimson light roared in front of her. A hail of blasterfire coursed and churned towards her. Her hands moved of their own volition, spinning her lightsabers before her in glowing lavender fans to catch and deflect the fusillade of energy bolts stabbing towards her. Each bolt jarred through her lightsabers, sending hammering blows up through her bones.

Beside her, Master Zhar was a blur of green flesh and blue light, whirling his blade back and forth, hurling blaster bolts directly back into the bodies of the soldiers who had fired them. Sweat stood on his brow in heavy droplets, and blood from his wound coursed down his legs, staining his robes and trousers. And Belaya struggled to match them, her own lightsaber dancing and howling, hurling fire away from her.

Alone, three Jedi made a stand.

The Sith troops spread out, some dodging for cover as their own shots were reflected back at them. Bandon stood motionless, a tower of darkness at the center of the Sith. His eyes blazed as they lit upon Lal's dancing, spinning form. She felt the pressure of his gaze like a stone wall bearing down against her. She locked her eyes on him, and let her instinct move her lightsabers. She detached herself from the strain and struggle of her flesh and focused on him. A smiled flared upon her lips, and as he stared at her, his face twisted in rage.

Bandon hefted his weapon and his body tensed to hurl him towards her.

But a deafening roar swept over the courtyard, and a hot wind blasted and beat at their bodies. Overhead, the sun disappeared into shadow as a vast hovering hawk swung above them.

"Somebody order a rescue?" Carth's voice called from Lal's wristcomm.

The Sith glanced up in shock as the _Ebon Hawk's_ ventral quad cannons swiveled and opened up. The barrels shook as they spat fire and thunder at the Sith troops. The ground erupted in columns of flame and bodies shattered and disappeared beneath the unrelenting fire.

"Not so easily!" Bandon shrieked, pouncing on Lal. She danced backwards and lashed out at his face with her foot. She caught him along his jaw, but he rolled with the force of the blow, pivoting around into a low spin. He whipped his lightsaber at her legs, and Lal's muscles took over and merged with the electric song of the Force.

She flipped backwards, lifting her feet over his strike. Her boots snapped out as she flipped, and caught him under his chin. Bandon staggered backwards as she landed in a crouch a few feet away. Above them, the _Hawk_ swung close, cracking open her landing ramp. Bandon snarled incoherently and launched himself at Lal once more. She met his charge with one lightsaber high over her head, clashing against his crimson blade with a shower of white sparks. Her second blade stabbed towards his body and the tip jabbed into his hip. He gasped and jerked back. The pause gave Lal enough time to notice an entire host of Sith troopers flooding the courtyard

"Belaya!" Lal called, "Zhar! They've got reinforcements! We have to go now!"

"Belaya," Zhar grunted, "go! I will cover you!"

Belaya nodded and hurled her body ten feet straight up,. Her feet landed perfectly on the edge of the ramp and she whirled immediately to hold her hand down to Lal.

"Master Zhar!" Lal cried, "there's no more time! Come on!"

Lal turned to the staggering Bandon, whose face was purple with rage. She thrust her palm towards him and blew his body backwards with a rush of pure, burning will. She closed down her lightsabers and thrust herself upwards. Belaya caught her wrist and struggled to haul her up onto the ramp. Lal scrambled upwards desperately, wrapping her arms around one of the ramp's support struts.

And then, a blast of heat washed over Lal's back and neck and cheek. She gasped as a flash of red dazzled her eyes. Belaya screamed suddenly, and Lal saw Bandon's lightsaber, hurled through the air, bite and chew into Belaya's chest. The young woman stumbled and went limp.

"Belaya!" Lal screamed.

Belaya glanced down with blank eyes at Lal…she tottered on the edge of the ramp a second more before life fled her. And then she fell into the crowd of Sith gathering below.

"No!" Lal glanced down, and saw Belaya's body twisted and broken upon the ground. Several feet away, Zhar spun and whirled in a group of soldiers, cutting down any who strayed too close. As she watched, a Sith fired from behind him, and the bolt tore into Zhar's spine, whipping him around.

Zhar staggered to the side weakly and then his pain from Calo's wound consumed him. He turned a sad glance up at Lal and nodded once.

And then, they were on him.

"No! No, no, no no!" Lal moaned, tears burning the corners of her eyes. Above her, Bastila appeared, with Canderous hovering behind her. Bastila yanked Lal up inside the belly of the _Hawk_ while Canderous dropped a pair of thermal detonators out into the courtyard below. Juhani punched the controls that retracted the ramp, and the explosives cracked open with a crack and a sharp hiss.

"Damned Jedi," Canderous growled as Lal sank to the deck. Bastila kneeled and hugged her tightly. He jabbed a wall-mounted comm and yelled into it, "We're clear, 'Public! Punch it!"

"Hang on back there," Carth warned half a second before the ship lurched violently. "Canderous, I'm gonna need someone on the top-quad! We got more incoming!"

Canderous sighed and glanced down at Lal. He seemed as if he was about to say something, but saw the pain twisting her face, and merely nodded. Then, he dashed off to man the guns.

"They're gone," Lal whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I lost them all…I tried…I…tried…"

Juhani knelt down along side both sisters and laid a hand on Lal's shoulder.

"It was Bandon," Lal whimpered, hanging her head. "Bandon and Calo Nord…"

Bastila nodded, cradling Lal's head to her breast.

"Where were you?" Lal suddenly cried. "If you had been there…"

"Lal, we had no choice!" Bastila told her, cupping Lal's cheeks in her palms and staring into her eyes. "Sith fighters were targeting us, and Carth had to get us airborne. We had to take a long loop around the compound to shake them…But I fear it's not over yet. We still have to get past their ships in orbit."


	19. Chapter 16

16: Dream of Deserts

The _Ebon Hawk _pitched and rolled under Carth's steady hand. The ship stood on a tail of blue fire and burned out of the atmosphere, leaving Dantooine's green bosom below. A cluster of Sith fighters swarmed wildly after the _Hawk_, and she dodged the spears of red fire they hurled. Before the catamaran prow of the _Hawk_, a line of diamonds glittered, growing steadily larger as Carth throttled up on the ion drives.

Bastila crawled into the seat beside him and strapped herself in. Lal, Juhani and Mission hovered behind the pilot and co-pilot's seats, gazing anxiously out the forward viewport.

"I think we're in trouble," Carth growled, slamming the control waldoes to send the _Hawk_ into another roll.

"Are those ships?" Mission asked.

"I'm reading at least ten ships on long range scanners," Bastila told Carth after examining her instruments. "Blockade formation."

"We're in trouble," Mission muttered.

"Is Malak out there?" Lal wondered aloud through clenched teeth.

"I cannot sense his presence," Bastila replied. "My guess is that he's not likely to be very far behind, however."

"How in the hell did they find us?" Carth asked.

"Calo Nord tracked us somehow," Lal told him.

"That short scruffy little lunatic who was working for Davik?" Carth grunted.

"Now he's working for Malak," Lal said, "looking for Bastila and me. Except now, he'll be in need of a helping _hand_ if he wishes to come after us again."

"I'm not even gonna ask," Carth murmured.

Bastila glanced over at Carth. "We're getting rather close to those ships, Carth…I trust you have some sort of plan?"

"I do," he nodded. "We're gonna fly real fast. Hang on!" he suddenly jerked the ship into a quarter roll and stood her on her starboard stabilizer. The entire ship trembled violently as laser fire crashed into the aft shielding. "Damn it, Canderous, keep those bastards off our tail!"

"How long until we can make the jump to hyperspace?" Juhani asked.

"Under two minutes," Bastila answered. She tossed Carth a worried look. "We'll be within their weapons range in one minute…"

"Boost aft shields and spin up forward missile tubes," Carth ordered. Bastila hastened to comply, flicking switches and pressing buttons. "Hang on…"

He suddenly reversed thrust and the flock of fighters tailing the _Hawk_ overshot them and floundered before the ship. "Target lock," Bastila announced, jamming the launch controls with her thumb. A pair of concussion missiles streaked forth on silver streams and collided with two of the fighters. The Sith ships erupted in balls of flame. Their formation scattered as the Sith pilots scrambled to get out of the blast zone. Carth wrenched the throttle forward and tore through the swarm of tumbling fightercraft. As they roared past, Canderous blasted several more from his position in the dorsal quad cannon.

"Power to forward shields!" Carth yelled as they zoomed closer to the blockade vessels. On cue, the ships opened up with their turbolasers, hurling shafts of energy thundering past the _Hawk._ "They're not gonna make it easy are they? Well, neither am I…"

He pitched the ship into a barrel roll and went inverted. He goosed the thrusters to full and snapped the _Hawk_ back towards Dantooine at full burn. The fighters struggled to keep up with his erratic maneuver.

"Um…Carth?" Bastila murmured. "You do realize we're heading back toward the planet?'

"Just keep those shields angled to the fore," he told her.

"Are we going back?" Mission whimpered softly, wringing her blue hands together nervously. "Going back is bad, isn't it?"

Carth merely shoved the ship back towards Dantooine as fast as possible. The planet's gravity well yanked hard on them, adding velocity. Carth rolled the ship again, keeping the planet above them in the viewport. A dull red glow began to smolder along the forward hull. The cabin trembled and shook as the Hawk grazed along the atmosphere of Dantooine. Several fighters tried to follow, but hit the atmosphere at too steep an angle. They burst into white streaks of flame and disintegrated.

The deck creaked loudly as the inertial dampeners tried to compensate for the sudden pressures yanking and grabbing at the ship. Lal felt her stomach leap up into her throat as Carth pulled sharply around the curve of the planet, letting gravity slingshot them around to the other side. He blazed into the night terminator, and the _Hawk_ released a river of fire in her wake, slicing right across the upper atmosphere.

A minute later, they burned out from the other side of the planet moving faster than Lal thought any ship should be allowed to move. Bastila swallowed a dry lump in her throat and smiled at Carth. "Brilliant," she whispered.

They snapped free of the planet's gravity well traveling almost twice as fast as before. The _Hawk_ tore past the line of blockade ships in a silvery blur, moving faster than their turbolasers could track. Carth glanced down and saw the jump coordinates flickering green on his display. He grabbed the hyperspace throttle and yanked it back.

Before them, the stars turned into a tunnel of silver streaks and the Hawk roared into the rolling blue sea of hyperspace.

Carth sighed and leaned back in his seat. He smiled at Bastila and Lal and said, "How's that for a plan, ladies?"

Lal bent down to kiss his cheek. "As my sister said," she told him, "brilliant."

* * *

_Zhar's voice echoed across the courtyard, following in the wake of her footsteps, hammering against the flagstones. "Lal! Don't do this! Please don't do this! You have no idea what consequences your decision will have!"_

_Lal felt herself stop and turn with a sigh. "Censure, Master? Some other sort of punishment? Will my playground privileges be revoked?"_

_"Lal, please do not make light of this!"_

_"I'm not. You are. The council is. People are dying, Master. Hundreds of thousands every day in this terrible conflict. Now, the order…we could make a difference. With the abilities and power we have. But the Council chooses to sit by and ignore the problem. And they have the audacity to accuse me? You know I've never sought power for power's sake. I never wanted this. But we have the power; why not use it to save lives? There are consequences…I well know! But isn't it better that the Jedi face those risks rather than innocent civilians?"_

_"You think death is the only risk you face? Lal, please believe me, when you intend to kill an enemy, and when that is your goal, for whatever reason, good, bad, whatever, you'll find yourself finding ways to make certain you kill. Killing will become a program. A doctrine. And then, it becomes easy to do such a thing. Easier and easier to accept and make difficult choices. Easy to accept and make impossible choices, Lal. And that ways lies the Dark Side."_

_"Perhaps so. But no one who lives through war does so without seeing hell. I'm willing to pay that price to help put an end to this conflict, Master."_

_"Lal! You will be removed from the Jedi order! Your knighthood stripped away!"_

_She watched him for a moment and thought about how much she loved him, thought about his only desire being to protect her. But she was all grown up now. No longer a child. No longer a teenager learning at his side. She had to take her own steps now._

_Lal sighed and undid her belt. She pulled her brown robe off, leaving only a thin white tunic beneath. She held the robe before her for a moment, remembering how happy she had been to gain it._

_And she tossed it on the ground._

_"I never cared for the color anyway."_

_"Lal, no…"_

_"Master, I will always…always love you. Please remember that. Tell Master Vrook too," she chuckled. "I bet that will make him turn bright red. Tell Bastila…tell Basi…not to follow me."_

* * *

_Revan groaned softly in the dusty darkness and Malak coughed from somewhere in the gloom of the cave-in. Lal saw Revan stand unsteadily, leaning a silver gloved hand upon a wall. Malak stumbled over, coughing and hacking as dust swam into his nostrils. Malak turned and glanced at the wall of boulders behind them and shook his head. _

_"I don't think we'll be leaving this way…"_

_"You don't say?" Revan muttered bitterly, igniting a lightsaber to cast illumination throughout the chamber they had fallen into._

_Malak folded his arms across his chest and glared down at his smaller friend. "This was a mistake."_

_"Oh, do cease your complaining. You whine like an old woman at times, Malak. I swear." Revan gestured towards a narrow passage way and moved carefully into it._

_"How do you even know this leads anywhere?" Malak demanded._

_"Because I'm smart. I can feel an airflow. Now would you stop your moaning and come along?"_

_"One of these days, Revan…"_

_"One of these days WHAT?" Revan snapped, lunging to stand face to face with Malak. Revan had to look up to glare into Malak's slitted eyes. "What, Malak? What are you going to do?"_

_Malak ground his teeth together and turned away. "Nothing."_

_"Nothing at all!" Revan hissed. Revan sighed and turned away. "Listen, Malak…I didn't mean…I'm sorry. I'm just on edge. I know you are too. But let's not turn a bad situation worse, hmm?"_

_Malak nodded. Revan chuckled and laid a hand on Malak's shoulder. "Come on…stop sulking…You know we couldn't have gotten this far if not for you."_

_Reluctantly, Malak nodded again, and the two of them disappeared from Lal's sight._

* * *

_When she saw them again, Revan stood before a massive skull, crowned with horns twice the length of a man's body It had been stained yellow with age and cracks and fissures criss-crossed the surface of the bone like spiderwebs. It looked like some sort of massive ancient lizard. Though the jawbone was missing, it looked as if it could have swallowed a man whole. Perhaps two or three. The scattered remains of its skeleton spread out in a line behind the skull…at least fifty feet. Maybe more._

_"Looks like it got caught in a collapse of some sort," Malak observed, pointing out a pile of boulders thrusting forth from the shattered ribcage. Any one of those massive ribs could have been a crossbeam in the roof of a mighty hall._

_Revan glanced around the titanic cavern and sighed. "I don't know. Roof looks sturdy. Maybe it just died of old age and was picked clean by scavengers."_

_"I'd hate to see such a scavenger…"_

_"Look!" Revan cried, leaping atop the skull. "There's the console! I told you!"_

_The two of them moved towards the console, which reminded Lal of the one in the maker ruins on Dantooine. Revan's hands flew over the surface of the console. "Let's see…same sequence should work…"_

_As Revan spoke, something erupted from a pile of broken bones and rocks. Dust showered down off the rusted metallic surface of the figure. Red lights flickered beneath a sinister brow and its head swiveled with mechanical precision to regard Revan and Malak._

_"Nees slos sween-sah." The droid barked in a hollow voice._

_"That doesn't sound encouraging," Malak said, fingering the hilt of his lightsaber._

_"Code's not working," Revan grunted._

_"Sian-si loos shla nees," the droid continued. "Haal-sleay-analyzing woni-rai-diu unknown language. Liasi Naan detected. Intruders detected. Analyzing: Carbon-based organic…endoskeletal biped. Observation: you are not like the last carbon-based organic this unit eliminated. Query: What exactly are you?"_

_Malak glanced at Revan with a confused frown. "We're human, you idiot piece of scrap."_

_"Statement: that term is not found within my databanks. Please elucidate…humans."_

_"Human beings, you rusted piece of junk!" Malak snarled. _

_"Malak," Revan sighed, "I suggest not agitating the droid that likely killed this huge lizard-thing, hmm?"_

_"Observation:" the droid said, "so-called human beings seem to be flesh-covered bags of water and…meat. Analysis: you pose no significant threat to this unit." As it finished speaking, it lifted both arms towards them. Panels on its bulky forearms cranked open and blaster barrels slid forth and locked into place._

_Revan and Malak dove for cover as the droid's weaponry opened fire like crashing lightning. It blasters spat forth a blistering sheet of energy bolts that tore through the ancient skeleton and punched through stone. The droid walked its deadly fire along the floor of the cave, right towards Lal. As it chewed up the ground, she lifted her hand before her eyes and screamed…_

And she sat up screaming.

The light snapped on and Mission hopped down from her bunk above Lal. The Twi'lek knelt beside Lal and gripped her shoulders. "Lal! What is it?"

Juhani leaped down from her bunk, her bright green eyes flashing wildly. Her claws flexed from her fingers and toes and she glanced around anxiously.

Lal realized she was breathing heavily, and her heart was hammering within her chest. "I…I…a dream…"

"About Revan and Malak," Bastila said, propping herself up on her elbows on the bunk across from Lal. Lal glanced at her sister and nodded. "I saw it too, Lal. They were in a cave…"

"A cave," Lal whispered, "yes…"

Mission sat back and cocked her head at Lal. "Huh?"

"They shared a vision," Juhani said excitedly, slithering past Mission to sit beside Lal. "Visions are always of tremendous importance, but when they are shared…"

The door opened and Carth burst in, wearing little more than a pair of shorts. "What the hell happened?" he cried. "Is everyone alright?" Behind him, Zaalbar echoed his concern. "We heard screaming…"

"It was a dream, Carth," Bastila said, swinging her legs over the edge of her bunk. "I think we saw the location of the Starmap chamber on Tatooine."

"How do you know it was Tatooine, Bastila?" Lal asked.

"The skeleton we saw…it was that of a creature native to the Dune Sea. But search your feelings, Lal. Did it not feel like Tatooine?"

Lal supposed it did. "I…I'm sorry I woke everyone up…"

Zaalbar cocked his head to the side and shrugged, issuing a soft, reassuring grunt. Lal smiled up at him, heartened by his concern. "Don't worry about me, Carpet," she told him.

"You sure you're okay?" Carth asked. "Well, my watch is about to begin anyway…"

"Carth, I'll take your watch," Lal said, throwing her covers off and standing. "I'm quite sure I've slept enough tonight."

Carth's face reddened when he saw her in her underwear, and he turned his back.

Lal glanced down at Mission and they both started chuckling.

"What's so funny?" Carth asked. Even Bastila wore a smile.

"Carth," Lal sighed, "we're all standing here in our underwear, after all."

"I guess that settles that argument," Mission observed with a giggle, favoring Carth's backside with a stare.

"What argument?" Juhani asked.

"Boxers or briefs," Mission told her. Zaalbar began chuckling and shuffled off back to bed.

Carth glanced down at his boxers and sighed. "I can't believe this."

Juhani nodded and glanced at Mission and Lal. "They suit him well."

"This is like a slumber party with a bunch of teenaged girls!" Carth exclaimed, throwing his hands up. "I'm going back to bed."

As he left, all four women started laughing.

"Did you see his face?" Bastila asked. "He was redder than a Zeltron Courtesan!"

"Oh, he likes the attention," Mission said sagely. "Especially from Lal."

"Mission!" Lal exclaimed, stepping into a pair of loose white trousers.

"Those are mine, Lal!" Mission said.

"And I'm borrowing them," Lal told her.

"I haven't even had a chance to wear those yet!"

Lal bent down and kissed her forehead. "What a coincidence; neither have I. Now do go back to sleep, all of you."

* * *

Lal padded into the cockpit in bare feet and saw Canderous in the pilot's chair watching the display screens. He glanced over at his shoulder at her.

"Everything alright back there?"

"Canderous," she faked a surprised gasp, climbing into the chair beside him, "it's almost as if you care!"

"Hmmph," he grunted. "Onasi?"

"I'm taking his watch."

"I guess 'Public needs his beauty sleep, after all. You're early."

They both fell silent for several minutes, watching the spiraling tunnel of viscous blue light funnel around the ship. "I don't think I care much for Hyperspace," Lal finally said.

Canderous nodded. "It can be…disconcerting to anyone who isn't a natural-born spacer. It is another reality. Not just composed of space and time…but some say…_thought_…It makes dreaming more vivid. When the first Mandalorians stepped into Hyperspace, they claimed to have visions delivered to them; dreams that promised great and worthy battles and the blood of their enemies. I suppose there was something to that."

She glanced at him with a frown. "Canderous," she asked hesitantly, "do Mandalorians think of anything beyond combat and honor and so forth?"

"We do."

She waited for him to elaborate, but he seemed content to merely watch the display screens and readouts before him. "Such as?" she prompted.

He turned and fixed her firmly within his pale blue eyes. "Well, what do you think about, Lal? Do you think about the future? Do you worry about things you cannot change? Do you think of your regrets and fears? Do you think about what your next meal will be? Who you will share a bed with? Do you think about how you hate spiders?"

"I don't hate spiders."

"Well, I do. I cannot suffer them to live."

She chuckled. "So the great and terrible Canderous Ordo is afraid of spiders?"

"The spiders on Mandalore are the size of a landspeeder," he told her. "And I didn't say I was afraid of them. I said I hated them. And sometimes, I think about them. Like you, I think of many things. I give voice to a few of them."

"Right…now I understand why the Republic went to war with the Mandalorians…couldn't get a bloody straight answer."

He chuckled. "I give you straight answers when it matters. And when you give me straight questions. Mandalorians do not find it necessary to speak on trivial things as much as you people do. But I do have a straight question for you: now that you have discovered that you went forth to fight the terror of the Mandalorians several years ago, that we were your enemy, now that you seem to have accepted this, why would you put a Mandalorian at your back? Why trust me?"

"You could ask the same about Carth," Lal pointed out.

"He does not trust me. He trusts you. I'm sure he feels there is a valid reason why you fraternize with a former enemy, and he trusts your judgment. Same with Bastila and the Wookiee. They tend to follow your lead in these things. Were it up to them, I'm certain I'd have been marched out the airlock at gunpoint long ago. Or they would have _tried_."

"When you and I first entered our alliance," Lal began slowly, "we had similar goals. We both wanted off Taris. We both wanted a freer reign in our…_operations_."

"We have left Taris. And you seem concerned now with the business of the Jedi rather than that of a smuggler."

"I am concerned with the business of learning who I am. If that is in line with the business of the Jedi, so be it. I told you that I could no longer hold up my end of the bargain, Canderous. You could have hopped on a transport while we were on Dantooine. You decided to stay. So perhaps the more honest question is: why trust me?"

Canderous smiled and nodded in satisfaction. "Well, I'll give you this: Lal Shan is easily as clever and cunning as Lal Sideen. You would make a good Mandalorian. Well, except for the whole…_mercy_ thing."

"Ah. And is this because I told you I didn't kill Calo Nord?"

"I admit, I was rather surprised to hear that. You told us Calo had tracked you down. Had signaled Malak's fleet. He was singularly responsible for all the deaths that happened at the Enclave. Even a pacifist would have viewed Calo Nord's death as justice."

"I…I wanted to kill him. Maybe I should have. There was a time, obviously…when I would have killed him." She recalled killing Brejik, the leader of the Black Vulkars. Remembered making him pay for what he had done to Selli. But now, Selli and Zaerdra and Gadon were dead. Or were likely so. One man's crimes hardly seemed to matter anymore. "With so much death, is the killing of one man, however justified, so important?"

"You're asking the wrong man. I don't kill for justice or vengeance. I would have killed Calo Nord, but only to keep an enemy from my back. Or perhaps…he is too pathetic a being to live. You are familiar with Yondar Prime?"

Lal shook her head. "They make a lovely silk there…I've heard there is a slave trade. Nasty wildlife. That's all I've ever heard."

"They do have a slave trade. When the Mandalorians were still involved in slaving, we had numerous contracts there. When Davik contracted Calo Nord's services, I did some research on the man. He was a slave on Yondar Prime. Sent at a young age to the Arenas. From what I had heard, he made quite a name for himself over the years. The Arenas on Yondar Prime, mind you, trafficked in lethal combat. He was owned by a powerful statesman. Won a great deal of money for this man in the Arena. It was said that a rival Politiciar killed Calo's owner. An assassination that rapidly threw his house into chaos. Calo was essentially free to escape. Instead of seizing his freedom immediately, Calo took the opportunity to silently murder his owner's entire family. His wife, his three daughters. Killed them in cold blood. No one knows why. It was also said…in rather more _hushed_ tones that the owner's eldest daughter had taught Calo to read when he was a child. That she had shown him great kindness. And that, regardless, he killed her, only to make a break with his old life. That is hardly logical. In fact, quite insane. And I say that to you with the perspective of a professional murderer. Heh."

"Uh…quite. So what are you trying to tell me, Canderous?"

"Only that Calo is not a man driven by sanity. That he has shown a dangerous obsession with women who possess…_power_ over him."

"I had no power over that lunatic."

Canderous smiled slyly and chuckled. "All women have some power over men. Especially a woman like yourself, Lal, who is at once beautiful and lush, and brilliant and clever. Heh. Had Calo been a normal man, he probably would have sent you flowers and with palms sweating, would have screwed up his courage to ask you out on a _date_…"

"I was never really the sort to date, Canderous."

Canderous laughed. "No, I suppose not. And Calo was not the sort to ever ask. But it was obvious that he was obsessed with you. Had the fool been sane, he would have…addressed his obsession in perhaps a more sociable manner. As it was…he simply wanted to remove you from your position of _power_ over him."

Lal sighed and massaged the bridge of her nose. "So you're saying that, even though I left him crippled, even though he was likely killed by the detonators you dropped, he'll find a way to come after me?"

"Have you looked in a mirror lately, Lal Shan? _I'd_ find a way…"

"Ah," she nodded. "So, let's see…I believe you said, 'beautiful and lush…brilliant and clever.' Have I found a reason why you're still in my company, Canderous?"

He released a wintery chuckle and flicked hooded eyes at her. "I don't know, Lal. _Have_ you?"

Behind them, Bastila cleared her throat loudly. Lal turned to find her sister standing at the nav-computer console behind the pilot's station. Canderous grinned wickedly and pushed himself up and out of his chair.

"Perhaps I should hit the rack," Canderous said casually, glancing at Bastila.

"Perhaps you should, Canderous," Bastila replied, her arms folded across her breasts. She stepped forward and sat down in the pilot's chair.

"Runs in the family," Canderous grinned, nodding to both women. Then he left them.

Lal and Bastila sat in silence for a few strained moments.

"What is it about you?" Bastila finally asked, when she was certain Canderous had indeed left.

"What do you mean?" Lal countered innocently.

Bastila fumbled and floundered for the right words. "_That_! That…whatever it was! First Carth…now that…_Mandalorian_…And let's not forget Juhani!"

"Juhani? Oh, Basi, I was just teasing you about Juhani. Admittedly, I found it odd to…bathe with another woman…well, perhaps not _odd_ as such…it's happened before…Just untoward. But nothing happened. Nothing came close to happening."

"Lal!" Bastila gasped. "Do you mean to say you've actually bathed with other women in the past?"

"Well, I…Oh come on. You've never seen fit to soak in a sauna with real water with other females? Or luxuriate in a heated whirlpool?"

Bastila frowned. Her cheeks turned red and she fell silent, staring at the readouts before her. She reached out to adjust some controls on her console. "There's a point five variance on the intermix flow."

Lal nodded sagely. "You know, Basi, now that I'm using the Force again, I can say things like, 'oooh, your thoughts betray you' with a modicum of actual validity."

"Oh, alright! I…admit…I have…found occasion to _soak,_ as you say, with other women. It's just that…I was concerned that Juhani's motives were not quite so innocent."

"Why? Is it because you don't trust her?"

"No…the Council has given her another chance, and that is sufficient reasoning for me. Besides, she was Belaya's friend and…well, I trust Juhani completely. Before she lost her temper, she was very sweet and kind. She still is. I…I like her a great deal."

"Okay. So…what is the problem?"

Bastila sighed. "I'm not trying to infer…well, I mean…it's just that Juhani is quite young. Cathar females her age tend to…"

"I believe the term you used was 'experiment.'"

"Yes."

"Sexually."

"Er…well, yes."

Lal chuckled and shook her head. "I couldn't care less, to be honest. All I can say is Juhani never brought it up. And neither did I. Satisfied? Basi, I'm surprised at you. Does it really matter to you what Juhani's…_interests_ are? Or mine?"

"Oh, do stop teasing me, Lal," Bastila sighed. "Regardless of their…ah…preferences, Jedi do not indulge their physical desires. It is forbidden."

"We've had this discussion…"

"And I suppose we'll have it again, Lal! Why are you so…difficult about this? It wasn't a problem before you left to go fight your war!"

"Basi, do you love me?"

"Yes. I…yes."

Lal smiled and reached over to grasp Bastila's hand and squeeze it. "Basi, when I take your hand in mine, what do you feel?"

"I…well…I feel you squeezing my hand…"

"Now you're the one being difficult. Let me tell you what I feel. When I hold your hand like this, when I know you're close and that you would stand with me no matter what, I feel safe. I feel strong. I feel as if…for the first time that I can remember, I'm not in this galaxy alone. And do you know why? Because I love you, and because I can feel your love for me. Do you understand?"

Bastila nodded.

"I felt Master Zhar's love for me. Even Master Vrook's…once I stopped being suspicious of him. I wish I hadn't been such a fool…"

They sat in silence for a moment, and sadness swept over Lal in a heavy wave. She could feel it surging through Bastila as well. Lal swallowed a dry lump in her throat and forged on. "Loving someone…it may alter one's perspective, Basi, but that's what love does. I suppose I love the Carpet. And Mission. I think that, had those two not entered my life, I'd still be the monster I was. In a way, they sort of saved me. From myself, I suppose. And you saved me. And Carth…I haven't said this…but all of you have taught me. Perhaps you most of all, honey. Half the time, of course, you're driving me quite bloody up the wall…but I'm so very glad you're here to do it."

Bastila smiled despite herself, and again, her cheeks burned bright red. "I suppose you do have a point. I do find strength in you. More, perhaps, than I could find in myself alone. Jedi are encouraged to love, Lal. Don't mistake me. Without love, we could not have compassion. But we must have compassion for all beings. Not just a sister, or a lover. It must be equal. Or we are lost."

"Well, I can certainly understand that. But at the same time, how can you know true compassion without experiencing it for yourself? In every way. Haven't you ever had it bad for some gorgeous piece of man, Basi? Come on…"

"Well…to be certain, I've never…actually…acted on it…but I have had…ahem…thoughts. Especially growing up."

Lal nodded and grinned. "What was his name?"

"Oh Lal…well, his name was Shen. Shen Matale. He was quite well…put together. He and his brother."

"Did I know him?" Lal asked.

"Oh, Shen was too young for you. At the time, you were more concerned with beating all the boys at lightsaber sparring." Bastila chuckled and shook her head. "You were all legs and arms back then. Quite the tomboy. Of course, I was even skinnier than you were."

"Well, we both filled out rather nicely, I should think," Lal grinned.

"Uh…quite. Well, you see, I had a crush on Shen. He was not a Jedi, but many of the settlers' children took some academic classes with us. So, he would be in our classes every season. Once, he and I shared a kiss."

"Bastila!"

"We did. We were only thirteen at the time…And I was punished for doing so. If things had been different, we…"

"Yes?"

Bastila sighed and shook her head. "Things were _not_ different. I think he was quite enamored of me, but he eventually moved on. Last I heard, he got married before the war."

Lal nodded. "So…there was just that one kiss shared between you?"

Bastila smiled again and looked down. "There may have been more…kisses, that is."

"I imagine so…Did I ever have a crush on anyone?"

"Oh, Lal…you were the worst thing that could happen to a boy's ego."

"What? How so?"

"Well, you were always the top student, Lal. You could out-do everyone in your class. Boys included. They tend not to like that sort of thing, you know."

Lal rolled her eyes and nodded. "Tell me about it…"

"But, from my understanding, as you got older, you caught the fancy of more than one youthful admirer."

"Story of my life, I suppose," Lal said with a heavy sigh.

Bastila turned to look at her. "Sadness…there is an immense sadness within you when you say that. And bitterness…"

"I suppose so, Basi."

"What is it, Lal? Tell me."

"I…I can't…I…Taris was not…_kind_ to women, Bastila. It was a cruel and vicious place. It took women and girls and…and it chewed them up. We were an industry. A commodity. Pretty toys to be played with in nasty games. I don't know if I could ever explain it to you, Basi…please don't ask me to."

"I…alright, Lal. You know, I sometimes look at Mission and I wonder what she has been through, and the answers scare me. She's just a girl, still…"

"Like every joygirl, Mission started out dancing. It's harmless enough, but it hardly feels that way. Being put out on display. Mission was a good dancer, but she was clumsy. I don't mean physically…You see, she's actually quite graceful. But she wasn't capable of…_selling the package_ so to speak. She was always so tentative. Too afraid. Fear appeals only to a certain type of customer. The dangerous type. Davik wanted to take her off the floor and put her to work, but I kept saying she wasn't ready…I guess, in some fashion, I was trying to protect her."

"That's what you always did best."

"Hmm. Not, I suppose anymore," Lal murmured. "Couldn't protect Belaya. Couldn't protect Master Zhar."

"But that wasn't your fault. You did your best, Lal. It is that simple. It pains me to think I'll never debate philosophy with Belaya again…but I know this: she was a Jedi. She was trained. She didn't need help from you or me or anyone. We stand on the brink, Lal. We look the dark things directly in the eye and say, 'you will not pass.' And we fall. It is part of our duty. Our choice."

"Choice. There's that word again." Lal glanced at Bastila and cocked her head to the side. "A lot of people are dead now…because the Sith came knocking at the door with a fleet. Did they have a choice?"

"It was a tragedy, Lal…Nothing I can say will change that. All we can do is honor their sacrifice, and hope that…that our actions, our choices are enough…"

"Now you bloody well sound like Carth," Lal moaned softly.

Bastila nodded and glanced out the viewscreen. "Well, Carth happens to make a good deal of sense more often than not…"

Lal glanced at Bastila in surprise. "Mm-hmm. And is that something you'd ever admit to his face?"

Bastila tried to suppress a grin. "Probably not…"

"Thought as much. You know, little sister, it wouldn't kill you to let him know you don't think he's some sort of scoundrel flyboy."

"I…I know that, Lal! I…I've tried to…Look, the simple truth is…"

"You've got a crush on him."

"Not in the slightest!" Bastila gasped, glancing sharply at Lal. "It's just that…well, he's so very good at what he does, and I feel like such an idiot around him…I have all this tactical training, and it all but pales compared to his merest instinct!"

Lal nodded. "You've got a crush on him."

"I do not. You're the one with an over-active libido, sister dear."

"Hmph. Just checking."

"Lal, you're going to completely disregard all I've tried to tell you about indulging your passions, aren't you?" Bastila sighed and shook her head.

"Not completely, Basi. It's just that I so enjoy teasing you. Takes my mind off this weight on my shoulders. And, moreover, it is the duty of every big sister to torment her little sister in some form or another."

"Incorrigible," Bastila groaned.

Lal found herself smiling. "I love you too, Basi."

* * *

A day later, the _Ebon Hawk_ slammed out of hyperspace and punched into the vast black vault of real space. Dozens of glittering distant stars whirled into view before the ship, and Carth turned the catamaran hull towards the dusty brown sphere of Tatooine. Bastila sat beside him, monitoring sensors while Lal and Juhani stood behind them. Lal leaned over the back of Carth's chair to gaze down at the sandy wretch of a planet.

A part of her started calculating revenues based on her last transmission from Jun Ando. But that had been back on Taris, nearly a solar month past. In all that time, without a communication from her, Lal wondered if she even still had a business to go to. But she quickly caught herself. Could she even continue with the operation anymore? That path led her back to the shadows of Taris. And her feet propelled her elsewhere now. But there was a security of sorts in those old thoughts; where things rarely got more complicated than _watch your back._ It was reassuring to know that people feared her. Or, at one time, it had been. Kept them from doing stupid things.

Of course, that was a lie. A lie and a conceit. Fear bred anger. And anger bred hatred. Hatred bred…well, it bred bad things.

"Tatooine," Carth sighed. "Ass end of the galaxy. I tend not to trust a planet with no standing water. Only folks you're likely to find are hardcase no-lifers and cutthroats on the wrong side of the law."

Bastila glanced at him with narrowed eyes. "That's not true. Our father lives here, doing archeological studies…academic work. Important work."

Carth shrugged. "I stand corrected then…"

"Humans are a most resilient and versatile species," Juhani pointed out. "By settling Tatooine, man has proven his unparalleled ability to turn any world into a home. For a Cathar, such a place is…repellant. No trees, no grasslands…"

"It's said that Tatooine was once covered with green lands and deep oceans," Bastila pointed out.

"What," Lal frowned, "with those twin suns blazing down on the planet? I've heard those rumors. Hard to believe."

"Paleo-geometric scans have shown a shift in axis," Bastila countered. Such a thing could have been caused by a massive collision millions of years ago, which could have shifted the planet closer to the twin suns. It's also speculated that there may have once been a third sun…which now may be a microscopic black hole. It may go through periods when it puts out large amounts of radiation. Radiation that could have adversely affected the biosphere."

"Bastila," Carth cut in, "set 247."

"Oh!" Bastila chirped, glancing down at her instruments. "Of course…"

"My sister the brain," Lal sighed. "I suppose I should tell you all…In my days on Taris, I set up some…ah…business connections here. It was all done behind Davik's back so the Exchange wouldn't own another piece of my a—er…business."

Carth and Bastila shared a glance, while Juhani managed to look perfectly unconcerned.

"Does this mean more surprises?" Carth asked.

"I don't actually know," Lal said. "I've got a lot of connections on Tatooine, so it should be fairly safe…so long as we maintain a low profile."

"Low profile," Carth groaned. "Yeah, with a Wookiee, three Jedi and a Mandalorian Hunter…No problem."

Lal sighed. "A _relatively_ low profile."

"Perhaps a disguise is in order?" Juhani suggested.

* * *

After securing landing clearance under a hacked transponder code and the name, _Midnight Saker_, the _Ebon Hawk_ swooped down into the bright white sky of Tatooine. It stood on its starboard stabilizer and arrowed towards the vast, empty canvas below. The _Hawk_ dropped low over the flat scorched land, and before its twin prow a tiny gray dot arose on the horizon. It grew in size rapidly, spreading itself out in gathered detail as the _Hawk_ zoomed closer. Carth tugged the nose upwards and climbed sharply over the settlement, and then, he tipped the _Hawk _over, goosing the repulsorlifts to make a gentle, controlled fall.

"Welcome to Anchorhead," Lal murmured, spotting the docks and warehouse pods she knew so well. "Not much to look at…"

Over the comm, the tower directed them south, to one of a cluster of docking pits sunken into the hard packed ground. Carth maneuvered the _Hawk_ over Bay-74 and triggered a burst from the landing thrusters. The _Ebon Hawk_ snapped abruptly into a hover, several meters above the ground, and then sank slowly on her landing struts, bouncing once on the shock absorbers. Steam pulsed from the _Hawk's_ heat sinks, kicking up whorls of sand and dust.

Wrapped in a white silk cloak, with the hood drawn over her head, Lal stepped down from the access ramp. She squinted up into the bright sky and saw one of the suns soaring high above the planet. It splashed the sky with harsh, searing bleach, and blazed like a white fire, hurling its burning glare over everything below.

Bastila followed in an identical cloak and stopped next to her sister. Bastila muttered softly to herself as Carth joined them, wearing a dark visor across his eyes.

"I really fail to see how such a conspicuous…get-up is supposed to make us actually _in_conspicuous," Bastila hissed. "I can't believe you talked me into wearing this, Lal!"

"The cloaks cover everything well enough, Bastila," Carth muttered, a grin on his face.

Bastila opened her cloak in a brief fit of incredulity, showing the revealing golden tunic that she wore beneath. "It's not the cloak I'm talking about! It's these…these…_slave_ outfits! Quite indecent!"

Carth chuckled. "Oh yeah. I forgot about that. Refresh my memory again, huh?"

Bastila suddenly went red as she realized she was displaying herself for Carth, and she slammed her cloak tightly shut over the thin tunic. "Ohhh!" She stormed off towards the dock's entrance gate, and Lal fell back to stand beside Carth.

"Should I be jealous, Captain Onasi?" she grinned up at him.

"Jealous? I don't know what you mean, ma'am. I was just…trying to see the family resemblance…"

Lal punched him in the shoulder.

"Owww!" he cried, rubbing at his arm. "Slavegirls are not supposed to abuse their owners."

"Mm-hmm. Don't bury yourself in the role, flyboy." She started to follow Bastila, but paused and turned to glance back up into the _Hawk's_ entrance. Juhani hid behind the bulkhead, poking her head out nervously.

"I was thinking, Lal," Juhani murmured, "perhaps I should stay inside along with the Wookiee-Zaalbar…"

Lal sighed. She knew Juhani was uncomfortable wearing the guise of a slave, especially since she had been one on Taris. But the Cathar's sudden case of modesty was an obstacle.

"I know how you feel, Juhani, but I need another pair of eyes. Zaalbar is too recognizable, Canderous is too…_Mandalorian_, and Mission is too Mission. I need you."

Juhani edged out and took a few clumsy steps down the ramp, clutching the cloak securely about her. "I suppose…"

Lal stalked up the ramp and clutched Juhani's hand. She pulled the Cathar girl close to her and headed down the ramp after Bastila and Carth. "I'll be right here beside you, okay?"

"Um…of course..."

After they passed through the gate, they stepped into Customs, where Carth claimed to be an exotic commodities exporter named Halos Sava. The Czerka corporation rep at the terminal perked up and gave them a greasy smile.

"Got two beta-prime clones straight from the vats on Kamino, and a Cathar Kit of top breeding," Carth said in a gruff voice. "Had to divert from Taris on account of the recent unpleasantness.

The rep gave an appraising gander to Bastila and Lal and nodded. "Well, your transmitted itinerary checks. Not much local market for pleasure slaves here, I'm afraid. Unless you're looking to deal with the Hutts."

"Hutts, huh?" Carth muttered. "I thought Hutt business was illegal, even on the Rim."

"Officially, Czerka Corporation recognizes the Hutt operations in the Rim territories as viable in most cases. Since this is not technically a Republic world, their laws don't actually apply…"

"So does that mean Czerka's out of the…ah…exotic commodities exchange?" Carth asked.

"Not at all," the rep smiled, wringing his palms together. "The business brought in by the Hutts and the less…_colorful_ ventures of the Galactic Exchange help to supplement local Czerka revenues significantly. I only meant that if you'd had labor slaves, they'd fetch you a larger yield. But I'm sure Motta will take them off your hands for you."

"Motta…he's one of the Hutts?"

The man nodded. "Oh, there will be a 100 credit docking charge, please."

Carth grumbled and handed over a credit-stick. The man slotted it into a data reader and diverted the funds. Then, he grinned again and handed it back. "Do have a pleasant stay, sir."

* * *

Lal snatched her cred-stick back from Carth once they were out of sight and growled darkly about the expense. "Damned greedy Czerka suits! Worse than a school of Corellian vampire-fish…"

They stepped out into the hot, dusty air and the sun immediately beat down upon them. Anchorhead was a clustered huddle of rounded hut-like buildings, crouching low to the earth to hide from the sunlight. Fashioned from white and brown plascrete, each structure looked rather more like a sand-ant hill than any sort of building or house. High walls were meant to cast long shadows whenever the sun wasn't standing right above. Many of the rounded pods had awnings; either makeshift lean-tos of ragged cloth or equally battered sheets of polymer scavenged from discarded heat shields. Communications and sensor towers stabbed into the sky like needles, swaying gently in the hot wind.

Rusted and corroded landspeeders puttered by, missing engine cowlings, kicking up dust clouds that parted the listless pedestrians, wrapped in cloaks, shrouded in hoods from the sun. The air stank of dry feces and as the ground trembled at her feet, Lal realized why. A ronto-herder prodded one of the long-necked beasts along, and the towering creature lumbered insolently, slamming feet shaped like mallets into the packed dirt.

Lal pressed the edge of her hood against her mouth and nose as the ronto thundered past. She glanced over as a scowling Dug gripped a Toydarian merchant by the throat with prehensile feet and swore loudly in Huttese. The Dug pivoted on its hands and slammed the pudgy Toydarian into a stack of pottery with a loud crash.

Several Duros in Czerka jumpsuits hustled quickly past the commotion, and nearly stumbled into Lal and Bastila. Carth reached out to grab one of the Duros by the shoulder, to keep him from walking into Lal. The alien glanced up, his great crimson eyes wide in shock, and hastily murmured an apology.

The four of them walked down a long avenue lined by kiosks set up in the sand selling everything from polished Sarlacc teeth to steaming bantha kebabs. A knot of swoops roared up the avenue towards them, and people hurried to get out of the way. The swoops whipped to a halt in front of a tavern, and a group of humans and Rodians leaped off, laughing harshly. Their crimson splattered leathers reminded Lal of the Vulkars on Taris. She noticed the painted sigs on their vests and shoulders and whispered to the others. "Local swoop-gang," she warned them. "Blood Dancers, from the look of it."

"Trouble?" Carth asked.

Lal shook her head. "Mostly teenagers with too much time on their hands. They kick up a lot of sand and run their mouths, but are rather short on courage unless you catch them in a large group."

Carth nodded, his hand dropping reflexively to the butt of one of his blasters.

"I have absolutely no clue as to how to find our parents in this…place," Bastila sighed. "I can't sense them anywhere close with so many people about."

"I thought that was a specialty of Jedi," Carth said. "Finding people."

"Unfortunately, my sense are…there is too much chaos here." Bastila frowned and glanced around. "Maybe if I could find a quiet place out of this sun and heat…"

"They might not even be in Anchorhead, Basi," Lal pointed out.

Bastila thought about that for a moment. "I suppose that's possible. Even likely. Probably out on some dig beyond the settlement."

"Have you never been to Tatooine before?" Lal asked.

Bastila shook her head. "Father was still teaching at University when I left to go the to Jedi temple. I don't remember exactly when they came here, but it was more than fifteen years ago."

"This place is an idle rock," Lal muttered, glancing around. "Czerka came here because their surveys told them they hit a jackpot. Turned out to be a bust. And they've been trying to recoup their losses."

"That company man mentioned Hutts," Juhani snarled, baring her sharp canines. "I do not like Hutts. Flesh-peddlers…"

"And worse than that," Lal agreed. "But the Syndicate set up one of their moderates in power here. Motta doesn't get too far out of line because of the treaty with the Exchange. Usually. Mostly, he handles the deathstick trade…gambling on the Swoop circuits, that sort of thing."

"Well," Carth said, "I don't mind hanging out with three half-naked Jedi, but I reckon we'd better try and track down your folks somehow. Got any ideas, Lal? This is your turf."

Lal stopped and looked down the street. She cocked her head towards an egg-shaped building bearing the Czerka logo on the door. "That's the survey and records building. If our parents got a legal permit to dig, there'd be a record of it. They keep a file on every prospector and rancher that lives outside of Anchorhead. So they know who to send a bill to in case the Tuskens get them."

"Tuskens?" Bastila frowned. "Tusken Raiders? Sand people?"

"They're a rough lot," Lal replied. "Mostly, they keep to the Dune Sea, away from the settlers, but sometimes, the tribes range inward, go on raids. People disappear. Bad business. To be honest, I never thought twice about it…I figured if a person was foolish enough to live outside Anchorhead…well…"

"This place is worse than Taris!" Bastila cried.

"Not by a long shot, honey," Lal said. "Dangerous, yes. But nothing is worse than Taris."

They stepped inside the survey office and a blonde woman glanced up and flashed a plastic smile from behind a circular desk. She rose and smoothed her skirt and walked over to Carth. "Ah. A new arrival. Always happy to welcome visitors to Tatooine. What can I do for you? Are you looking for supplies? Gear? License services?"

"Ah…actually no," Carth said. "Information, actually. See…I'm here to deliver these slaves to some folks by the name of Shan. I don't know if they live in Anchorhead or in one of the settlements."

"Ah," the woman nodded. She cast a glance at Lal and Bastila. "They don't actually look sturdy enough for desert life…" She went back to her desk and flicked on her computer. She typed in a series of commands and propped her hip on the edge of the desk, flashing Carth a smile. "The name's not familiar…but if they've been here longer than six months, I wouldn't have met them. I was just recently transferred." She glanced down at the screen and typed at the keyboard again. "Ah. Here we are. Cordalis and Helena Shan. Lists him as 'professor.' Hmm. I'm seeing a record of a moisture vaporator purchase from Helena a few months ago."

"Do you have a location on them? I'm kinda on the clock until I make delivery…"

"I understand completely," the woman grinned. She turned her attention back to the screen. "Hmm. Looks like a Helena Shan licensed a residence lease on some territory in…sector 12, around a year ago. There doesn't seem to be a mention of the professor. Her husband, I assume?"

"Uh…yes."

"Odd. She's listed as the sole resident."

"That can't be," Bastila said sharply, stepping forward. The Czerka woman arched her eyebrow indignantly at Bastila. "There must be some sort of mistake."

The woman rolled her eyes and returned her gaze to Carth. "Our records are accurate, I assure you. Every two standard weeks, we send out patrols to all the settlements and ranches to check on our customers and see to their needs if necessary. Last patrol returned five days ago, so the information is quite current." She looked back at Bastila critically. "Although, I must say, I can't see a woman having much use for joygirls."

"Hey, I don't ask questions," Carth said before Bastila could reply. "I just drop 'em off."

"I understand," the woman nodded, standing and walking towards Carth. "But I imagine it's quite a lonely lifestyle."

"Ah, well…"

"Perhaps after you've finished your duties, you might…join me for a drink later? Mister…?"

"Sava," Carth answered. "Halos. And you are?"

"Yulandi," she said, extending her hand. Carth took it and nodded.

"A very pretty name," Carth smiled. "I might take you up on that drink. Ah…listen, do you know where I could get some transportation?"

"Oh, of course. We rent out speeders as well. I'll need a deposit of 75 credits…well…perhaps, let's say…60?"

Carth nodded again. "Much obliged, Yulandi. Very much obliged…"

They left after Yulandi loaded the map info into the data-reader Carth provided. As they stepped into the glare of the sun, Lal punched Carth in the arm again. But no one spoke as they followed Yulandi's directions to the rental hangar on the south side of Anchorhead.

Lal could feel Bastila's worry, streaming from her in thick, sour waves. She moved up beside Bastila and slipped her arm around her sister's waist to hold her close. "I'm sure everything's just fine, Basi. Probably a mistake or something like that. Functionaries like that don't bother to double-check anything."

"I don't know Lal," Bastila said in a trembling whisper. "I…I'm worried something has happened…that Mother did something…"

"What do you mean?"

"She was always…always so…demanding…I remember they would argue when I was small. She always wanted a lifestyle beyond their modest means. It was…it was in her blood. I d-didn't mention it to you…I…I just have a bad feeling…"

Lal wondered what Bastila meant by that, but was afraid to ask. But soon, they were in the hangar, walking among rows of landspeeders. Carth led them to the Mobquet LandSpinner-8 he'd chosen, and they all climbed in.

He kicked in the thrusters and backed the arrow-shaped speeder out of its berth. Carth guided the Mobquet out of the main gate and shoved the throttle forward, hurling it out across the sea of pale sand beyond.

* * *

"You're sure that was her?"

"Positive. I was with her during the Slann Offensive. I know her face."

"And her sister as well?"

"Both of them."

"Lord Malak will be pleased…"

* * *

Lal's mind wandered as their speeder roared over the sandy wastes. Her hair whipped away from her face in jagged sheets, yanked and tugged by the wind, and grit clawed and scratched at her cheeks. Last time she had been to Tatooine, she had been a killer. An assassin trying to find a better life. Perhaps she had succeeded. Certainly, things were different; maybe even better. She had people she trusted, people who wouldn't stab her in the back at the first sign of weakness. She had a sister. She loved having a sister. And she had parents.

She wondered if she'd be able to face them. Wondered what would be the first words to tumble out of her mouth. _Hi, I'm your daughter, at least that's what Bastila tells me. See, I simply don't remember. I know you sent me off to be a Jedi, but apparently, I wasn't any good at it and became a killer instead. And a whore. And that's after I went off to make war in the name of galactic peace with some very naughty associates. Luckily, I don't recall any of that…the war part, not the assassin part. So…how have you been?_

Ridiculous. She had no idea what to say, what to do. And there was the worry that Bastila had felt…it was tickling Lal at the back of her skull, like a whisper of danger breathed across her flesh.

"How much further?" Lal asked Carth, shouting to be heard over the hiss of the wind.

"Map says it's another fifty klicks or so. Maybe ten minutes, give or take."

Lal turned around in her seat to look at her sister. Bastila's face was long and drawn, sketched roughly in pale strokes of chalk. Her eyes focused on some distant point, worrying.

"Basi, I…" Lal fell silent as the tickling thought in her mind sent a sudden, shivering chill through her. Her eyes flicked past Bastila's shoulder, past the curved rear cowling of the landspeeder. In the distance far behind them, Lal saw three black smudges wavering in the heat, standing forth on the horizon. "Uh-oh…"

Bastila's eyes fluttered as she noticed Lal's gaze. Both she and Juhani turned around to look. "Sith," Juhani growled, her fangs flashing in the sunlight.

"Sith?" Carth grunted. "Ah hell…"

"How far away are they?" Bastila asked, squinting. "Can you tell?"

"Maybe four, five kilometers," Lal guessed. "If they're on swoops, it won't take them long to close the distance. Carth, can this thing go any faster?"

Carth responded by redlining the engines. A burst of blue fire exploded from the rear thrusters and the speeder lurched ahead. The desert scorched past in a hot blur of white and brown. Lal pulled her lightsaber from beneath her cloak and squeezed it in a white-knuckled fist.

"They're closing," Bastila warned, pulling forth her own weapon. Juhani did the same, flexing the talons at the ends of her fingertips. "They're on swoops…"

"Damn," Carth hissed. "They can accelerate faster than we can…"

Suddenly, the ground before them erupted in showers of sand and fire as blaster bolts stabbed towards them.

"Hold on, ladies," Carth said, gritting his teeth. "Gonna turn and burn…"

Lal pressed her free hand against the dashboard to steady herself in the seat as Carth slung the speeder violently to the left. Sand sprayed behind them in a tall shower, and the blaster bolts tried to track them. Carth ripped the speeder back to the right, evading the hail of fire. Before them, a small cluster of buildings jutted forth from the horizon. Her mother's home…

"We're not gonna lose 'em in this open terrain," Carth said. "We can make a stand there."

"No!" Bastila shouted. "I will not bring the Sith to my parents' home!"

"Sith ain't giving us the choice, Bastila," Carth told her.

"No!" Bastila screamed, her lovely face twisted with anger and fear. She propped her hand on the edge of the speeder and hurled herself high into the air.

"Bastila!" Lal cried, reaching out, as if she had a hope of catching her sister. She could only watch as Bastila flipped over twenty feet in the air and spread her arms. Her cloak billowed out beneath her as she gently sank towards the ground.

Bastila landed in a low crouch, and both blades of her lightsaber flashed. She spun it around her body furiously, in golden windmills, blocking laser blasts. Carth whipped the speeder to the side and it skidded to a halt several meters from the tiny house. Lal flung herself from the speeder and shrugged her cloak to the ground. She shoved herself forward into a blistering run, dashing to help Bastila.

Juhani, followed, leaping into the air in a long, graceful arc. Her bare feet clawed into the ground when she landed, and she began running behind Lal. Carth leaped out to follow them, but the women were a distant blur already, streaking across the hot sands faster than he could hope to follow.

Bastila deflected another volley of shots as the trio of Swoops bore down on her. She spread her legs wide and lifted her lightsaber high above her head. With crisp, swift motions, she performed a series of tight, snapping forms, swinging her weapon in curt arcs to her left and right. She lifted one foot from the ground and held one hand forth to beckon them on. Then, she slammed her foot forward into a powerful ready-stance.

Three hooded figures, draped heavily in black rode the swoops down on Bastila. The lead rider stood on the pedals and unleashed a crimson bladed lightsaber. He held it out to his right, lining Bastila up for a strike. But as he closed on her, she threw herself into the air once more, her bare legs gleaming in the sun. She tucked into a ball and flipped above the Sith warrior's swoop, lashing out with her lightsaber. The golden blade seared through his control vanes and the swoop snapped around wildly.

The Sith snarled incoherently as he passed beneath Bastila, and he flung himself from the ruined bike. He rolled across the desert floor as the swoop slammed into the ground and exploded. He hurled himself towards her as she landed with her back to him. He brought his weapon down in a savage arc, but Bastila snapped her blade behind her, blindly blocking his strike. She thrust her foot out behind her into his gut, and shoved off against his belly, to throw herself forward into a roll. She spun on the ground and rose to her feet. With eyes of stone, she pointed her saber at him and waited for him.

"Die Jedi!" he roared, dashing forward to meet her. Their blades clashed in a shower of sparks.

* * *

Lal rushed forward to join her sister, but she had to whirl around as one of the other swoops soared towards her. A sheet of blaster fire rained down at her, and Lal flicked her blade before her to slap away each stinging blast. She swallowed a dry lump as the swoop screamed directly towards her. Lal threw herself to the ground beneath the bike, and slashed upwards as it blew over her. Fire burst from the rear of the bike and it nosed straight into the ground. Lal leaped to her feet to run from the blast…the swoop exploded in a cloud of flame and burning wind, hurling Lal flat on her belly.

She glanced around in shock and shook her head. As she picked herself up, she saw the Sith rider laying in a smoking heap a few meters away. Then, she heard the snap-hiss of a lightsaber igniting and saw the Sith rise slowly and turn to face her.

* * *

Juhani continued running past Lal right towards the last bike as it zoomed directly at her. Blaster bolts tore up the ground at her feet, but Juhani merely narrowed her eyes and bared her teeth in a deep, throaty roar. She pushed off from the ground and stepped up onto the front cowling of the bike, still running.

The rider jerked back in surprise as Juhani ran right up onto her bike and kicked her in the chest. The Sith flew backwards and hit the ground hard as Juhani landed a few feet away. The Sith warrior whipped her lightsaber out and ignited it, and pushed herself up to charge Juhani.

But Juhani crashed into her with her shoulder, hurling the woman backwards again. The Sith recovered quickly though and slashed across with her red blade. Juhani swung her torso downward and kicked her legs into the air. She spun along the axis of her lean frame in midair and landed in a whirl, whipping her weapon beneath the Sith's guard. Juhani's blade snarled as it bit into the Sith's chest. The woman fell backwards with a gasp and tumbled to the ground. Juhani spun her saber into a reverse grip and stabbed down into the warrior's throat. The Sith jerked and shivered violently, and then went still.

* * *

Bastila levered her blade against her opponent's weapon, but the Sith pivoted and let her weight carry her past him. He whirled around with a cross strike, but Bastila thrust forth her palm and hurled him back with a burst of will. He flew through the air and landed in a crouch, skidding backwards several feet through the sand. He smiled wickedly at her and thrust himself into a swift jog, trying to flank her. Bastila matched his movements and dashed to meet him. Their blades clashed once more in a flurry of flashes and explosions of light.

"You are no match for the power of the Dark Side, Jedi," he growled as their blades met in a squeal.

"You will not harm my parents!" Bastila howled, and kicked out low with her back foot. Her heel crashed into his ankle, and he suddenly dropped to one knee. Letting her momentum drive her forward, she hurled her knee into his face. Then she brought her lightsaber down in a diagonal slash and his weapon flew through the air followed closely by his severed arm.

As he screamed in agony, Bastila stepped forward into a deep lunge and stabbed her lightsaber through his chest. His eyes bulged at her in surprise and his mouth dropped open in a soundless shriek. Bastila stared at him for a moment and then closed down her blade. His lifeless body dropped in a smoking pile at her feet.

* * *

Lal glared at her opponent and sighed. "You sure you wish to do this?" Lal asked, one corner of her mouth curling upwards in a roguish grin.

"You don't remember me?" The Sith chuckled. She pulled back her black hood and a stream of dark curls spilled over her shoulders. Lal frowned and shook her head once. "We fought together, side by side at the battle of Slann. You, Lord Malak and myself. Just the three of us against tens times that amount of Mandalorian Battlers. I watched you disable three Basilisks that day, and pull their riders down to send them screaming to met their idiot gods in whatever hell they believe in. You were a vision of power and might! And you still are! It's not too late to join us! To come back to us! With you standing with us, nothing could oppose the Sith!"

"No. I'm afraid I'm not falling for it, love. I'm supposed to join you when Bandon already tried to kill me? I think rather not."

"I speak only the truth. Search with your feelings if you doubt me."

Lal hesitated, wondering if what the Sith said had any truth to it. For a moment, she considered…

Then, past the Sith's shoulder, she saw another black smudge on the horizon, racing towards them. Lal's eyes narrowed into molten slits. "Clever girl. Stalling."

The woman shook her head. "No. Giving you a chance. There are many of us who would gladly follow you! Who long for your return…"

"We've got more company!" Lal shouted, and split her lightsaber in half.

The Sith woman sighed and lifted her blade. "It would have been glorious!"

Their blades hissed forward and crashed together, hurling sparks from each strike. Lal lashed forward with her right blade, jabbing past the Sith's guard to strike at her face while her second blade slashed low. The Sith danced back, bashing Lal's right saber up and away. Then she dashed forward again, leading with the tip of her weapon. Lal brought both her blades before her chest in an X, turning the woman's strike aside. Then, Lal kicked forward, stabbing her toes under the Sith's ribs. She howled in pain and staggered backwards.

"Hurts?" Lal asked sweetly.

"You think this accomplishes anything? Some sort of greater good?" the Sith demanded, spitting blood past her lips. "Not in the slightest. The Jedi Order is weak and bloated. It cannot stand beneath its own supercilious weight!"

"Are you trying to convince me? Or yourself?"

The Sith chuckled and glanced back over her shoulder. "Well, I suppose in another minute or so, it won't matter." She charged forward again, bashing her lightsaber against Lal's hammering furiously and relentlessly, driving Lal backwards.

Lal gritted her teeth together, and met each stroke with calm determination. A soft fuzzy warmth flooded her muscles and veins, letting a richly blazing fire sweep through her body, and her arms pistoned and arced liked smoothly oiled machines. She could feel the woman's fury rising and boiling over, and for a moment, Lal wondered if she had ever fought as this Sith did, allowing her anger to make her clumsy.

And as she began blocking almost casually, effortlessly, Lal suddenly realized this one truth: control. Bastila nagged her constantly about it, but did she truly understand? No Jedi was immune from anger, nor from love, nor any heated emotion. But the Jedi strived to control it. But as Master Vrook had said to her, it wasn't a matter of _trying_, but rather doing. Do, or do _not_. It was a subtle difference, Lal decided. She didn't need to strive an entire lifetime _trying_ to control her passions…

She merely _did_.

As the Sith pounded away in a frenzy, Lal allowed herself to back up. And back up. Until she decided not to. She fell away to the right, pivoting on her right foot, letting the Sith lunge past her. And then, Lal kicked off the ground with her left foot and whirled back inward, sweeping well within the Sith's reach. Hastily, the Sith warrior blocked, and Lal's left blade crashed against her crimson lightsaber in a flash of light. But the Sith could not stop Lal's right blade, screaming towards her throat in a reversed grip.

Lal stepped past her opponent as the woman's body slumped to its knees, as her severed head dropped to the sand. "You have to know emotion," Lal whispered, "to control it."

"Lal!" Carth called several meters behind her, waving, "fall back! Fall back to the house! We got more guests coming to the party!"

Lal glanced around to see Bastila and Juhani dispatching their opponents. She smiled and jogged over to the two of them. She laid a hand on Bastila's shoulder and said, "Basi, let's go. We can hold them off better with cover."

"No!" Bastila hissed tightly, shrugging Lal's hand off. "I fight them here! Now! I will not allow the Sith to bring their madness to my parents!"

"Bastila," Juhani murmured, "I think Lal is correct. We--"

"Go if you want! But I will stop them, and I'll make them--"

Lal snatched Bastila by the face and leaned in close. "Control your rage, little sister, or it will kill you."

Bastila's eyes bulged suddenly in surprise. Her brow creased, and she tried to shake her head, but Lal didn't let go. "I--"

"Control it," Lal warned in a cool, even voice, "or I'll control it for you. Now do as I say."

Bastila's eyes flicked to the side, back and forth, and for a moment, she seemed as if she would tear herself from Lal's grasp. But she closed her eyes and licked her lips. She nodded once and sighed.

"I'm sorry…you're right…Of course you're right, my sister…"

Lal smiled and kissed Bastila's forehead. "I'm here, now, Basi. We don't ever stand alone. Never again. But, we'd better get moving…"

The three of them ran back to join Carth, and they all jogged towards the house. As they moved, they noticed a tall figure standing beside the landspeeder. It had a powerful squat torso, gleaming like burnished copper in the sun. Long thin arms flexed at its sides, studded with bulky, swollen forearms ending in grasping talons. The legs were almost skeletal, but spoke of simple, elegant strength, like beams of durasteel. The figure swiveled a head shaped almost like a fleshless skull and regarded them with glowing red eyes.

Lal and the others came to a stop before this tall droid. Lal's eyes blinked rapidly and she gasped in shock. That droid…she had seen it before…in her dreams.

"Observation;" the droid called out in a deep, metallic voice, "you are intruding on private property, interlopers." Panels snapped open on its shoulders, on its chest, and carbon-stained barrels slid forth. It arced its forearms upwards, and panels slid away there as well, revealing blaster cannons. The metal claws it bore instead of fingers grasped and clutched reflexively, almost…_eagerly_. "Identify yourselves, _meatbags_, or prepare for…ventilation."

"What is the meaning of all this ruckus?" A woman demanded, storming down the steps from the front door of the house. Tall and elegant, she wore a sweeping dress of muted red, the color of autumn. Her dark brown hair stood atop her head in a thick bun, streaked with a few errant slashes of gray. She cradled a blaster pistol in her hands and stopped beside the massive droid. "HK, who are these…" her eyes suddenly focused on Lal, and then on Bastila, and she lowered her gun.

She stepped forward, gazing at the two of them in wonder and surprise. "Is that…are you…by the Silver Star of Serranon…I cannot believe this…my two girls…? All grown up?"

"Warning," the droid hissed, "the identity of these meatbags has not yet been confirmed, Mrs. Shan. If you would allow this unit to interrogate them properly…with a sufficient amount of bone-snapping and blood-loss…"

The woman scowled and shook her head. "Oh, do be silent…" She sighed heavily and returned a smile to Lal and Bastila. "It really is you…both of you…" She held out her arms and Lal and Bastila went to hug her.

Lal felt very stiff in the embrace, but closed her eyes and breathed in her mother's scent…like the sun-lilies growing in her garden on Dantooine…She saw Bastila's glowing beauty within her mother's features. The same eyes, mouth. The same hands. Hands which once held her as a child.

She cupped Lal's cheek and kissed her. "So beautiful…my beautiful daughters…well, you're women now! All grown and…what in the world are you two wearing?"

"Ma'am," Carth began nervously, "I really hate to be ah…rude, but we've sort of got company. Dangerous company…"

Helena Shan squinted into the distance and saw the dark speeder moving towards them. Lal cast a sidelong glance at the droid, which had cocked its sharply angled skull at her. It regarded her with its bright red eyes, almost as if it…_recognized _her. Then the droid swiveled its head in the direction of the speeder.

"Observation:" it stated, "seven meatbags are approaching at a significant velocity in a repulsorlift vehicle. They are all armed. Quaintly. Interrogative: is this unit to assume that these…individuals are not a threat, Mrs. Shan?"

"Bastila and Lal are my daughters!" Helena snapped at the droid. "Of course they're not a threat." She fired a disapproving stare at Carth and Juhani. "I suppose these two are their…_friends…_"

"Mother," Bastila said hastily, "we need to move inside. These people following us are Sith. We do not have time to waste."

"Bastila's right, ma'am," Carth nodded. "They'll be on us in a few minutes."

"Oh, bloody hell," Helena growled, allowing Bastila to hustle her inside. She turned to glance past Bastila's shoulder and called out to the droid, "HK-47, make yourself useful for once and explain to those louts the meaning of private bloody property! Alright, Bastila, I'm going, I'm going…"

"This unit hears and obeys," HK-47 muttered. "As if this unit had a choice in the matter…" it looked down at Carth and continued, "Warning: you had better stay back if you don't wish to be laden with holes."

And with that, HK-47 began walking towards the approaching speeder.

Carth glanced dubiously to Juhani, who just shrugged her bare shoulders. He looked at Lal and said, "The droid might provide them with a distraction…buy us some time. But we need to set up a defensive position inside. Let's go."

Lal nodded and moved inside. But she had the distinct impression that there was far more to the huge droid than was apparent.

* * *

Helena watched and fussed as Carth went about the front room, peeking out windows, with his guns drawn. She caught Bastila's hand and stopped her. "Bastila, that man doesn't intend to discharge those things in my house does he?"

"If need be, Mother," Bastila said with a sigh. "This is very serious. Where is Father?"

Helena's mouth fell open and her eyes blinked rapidly. "Oh…Bastila…your father…he isn't…here anymore…I…"

"What are you talking about, Mother?" Bastila cried. "Is he out excavating or something…?"

"Bastila," Helena began, her voice cracking, "oh, dear…your father is dead, my dear girl…"

"What?" Bastila hissed. "You're lying! That…I…that can't be true! We came all this way! How can he be dead? No…"

Lal stepped forward to clutch Bastila tightly. "Basi…"

"No…no!" Bastila yelled. She turned to face Lal with eyes burning with tears. "No! Lal, we came all this way, and…and, we came and…"

"Oh, my sweet girls," Helena moaned softly, cradling Bastila's face in her hands. "I'm so sorry. I had no way to contact either of you…I haven't heard a bloody thing about you in all these years…hadn't even seen a Jedi since they took you away, Bastila…"

Bastila buried her head against Lal's shoulder and began crying softly. Lal stroked her sister's hair and stared into her mother's face; saw the skin tightening around her wet eyes. Felt the questions whirling within Helena's thoughts.

"Well," Helena stammered, "I…Lal, what is going on? Why are you two here? What do these Sith people want?"

"It…it's rather a long story," Lal simply said.

Carth stepped up behind Lal and laid a hand on her shoulder. He held up one of his blaster for her. "Listen, Lal, you're pretty good with one of these…if you take up a position on that window, and I set up over here, we can set up a crossfire--"

Lal held her mother's gaze a moment longer before turning to face Carth. "No," she said, shaking her head. "Blasters won't be of much use against them."

Carth scowled and glanced away. "Well…what the hell am I supposed to do, then? Just watch?"

Lal chuckled and patted Carth's cheek. "I didn't say that, flyboy. Give them something else to worry about other than me."

"I…okay, Lal. It's your show."

She nodded once and kissed him on the cheek. "Down payment," she told him. "Juhani, you're with me, love. Basi, stay here and protect M-Mother."

"Lal!" Helena exclaimed, "You're not going out there, are you?"

Lal fished for something to say to comfort the woman…her mother…but nothing came to mind. "I…it's what I do."

Lal and Juhani stepped back outside into the sun. Lal glanced to the window and saw Carth there, with his weapons at the ready. Juhani stood beside her and lifted her chin. The tufts of white-blonde fur along her jowls bristled in the breeze and her sharp ears twitched. The two Jedi watched HK-47 stop twenty meters ahead of them and wait for the advancing speeder.

"I do not think the droid will survive," Juhani noted. "I hope he was not too expensive."

Lal remembered her dream, and the corpse of the dragon, such a massive, powerful creature, born of myth and nightmares, laying shattered and broken. Nothing more than bones stained yellow by the ages. "Just be ready, Juhani. I don't want any of them getting past us."

"I swear by the Mother of the Moon," Juhani growled, "they will not."

Lal nodded once.

Suddenly, HK-47 opened fire with its on-board weaponry. Blaster fire erupted from the droid's body with the flare of a sun. Its arms pistoned and pumped with the recoil as a storm of fire surged forth. Energy bolts streaked in swarms towards the approaching speeder, which tried to bank away from the droid's barrage. Laser blasts tracked along the desert and stitched black holes in the landspeeder's chassis. Smoke billowed forth from the vehicle and it spun in a helpless circle, belching flame.

HK continued to pound at the speeder with a hail of blasts from its arm-mounted cannons. Sand and smoke flew up from the speeder as HK continued to hammer into it with each blistering discharge. When the droid finally ceased fire, the speeder was little more than a smoldering heap of slagged metal. Plumes of oily black smoke raged into the sky and fire danced along its surface.

Juhani gaped at Lal in utter disbelief. But Lal, not taking her eyes from the speeder wreckage, ignited both lightsabers. Juhani followed her gaze and saw movement through the black smoke, and saw the sudden flare of red, of Sith lightsabers erupting to life.

Lal watched as two bloodied, ragged Sith charged from the smoke towards HK. The twin barrels mounted in the droid's shoulders jerked back, and a second later, Lal heard a thundering crack split the air. The ground before the first Sith exploded in a blossom of sand and fire. The other Sith fell to the ground, his lightsaber spinning from his grasp. But of the first Sith, no sign remained.

HK moved forward with a sudden lurch and yanked the Sith up by the throat. Effortlessly, the droid hefted the man off the ground. The Sith began squirming and struggling, but could not break the droid's grip. Then the Sith held his hand out towards his lightsaber, willing it to him. The weapon shivered in the sand and then leaped into the air.

HK snapped out a claw and snatched the lightsaber from its flight. The droid held it before the Sith's face and crushed the weapon. It dropped the pieces onto the ground and then clutched the Sith's outstretched hand. It snapped within HK's powerful grasp, tearing a scream from the Sith's throat.

"Wait!" Lal suddenly cried. She ran towards the droid, her naked legs flashing in the sun. Juhani followed behind.

"Don't kill him," Lal said.

HK halted suddenly, swiveling its head to regard Lal, and pointedly snapped the man's arm. "Command…received," HK said, with the slyness of a human. It dropped the Sith onto the ground, where the man writhed in agony. HK turned to move towards the wreckage but stopped and glanced down at the Sith once more. The droid then stomped mightily on the Sith's uninjured hand, crushing it.

_Very efficient_, Lal thought, but she felt her face twisting in disgust at the droid's perfect, calculated cruelty. She stared up at the droid as it moved past her to examine the burning speeder for survivors.

"Observation:" HK began, "there are no survivors. Unfortunate." It cocked its head and stared down at Lal once more.

Lal returned its glowing gaze for a moment, and then said to Juhani, "Could you be a dear and drag this poor chap into the house? We need to find out what he knows."

"I'll never talk!" the Sith spat, coughing and wheezing.

"Statement:" HK said, leaning over the Sith, "that is this unit's most fervent wish."

Juhani stared at the droid in helpless awe, but gripped the Sith by his collar and dragged him back to Helena's house.

Once she was alone with the droid, Lal narrowed her eyes and stared at HK-47 intensely, trying to force her mind to remember. "What are you, machine?" Lal hissed.

"Statement: unit designation HK-47, Hunter-Killer nomenclature. Series data…corrupted. Manufacturer data…corrupted. Production date…production date…data corrupted."

Lal frowned in confusion. "Explain the cause of data corruption."

"This unit…this unit does not possess records detailing that information."

"How did you come into my Mother's service?"

"Statement: this unit was programmed to seek out a specific genetic pattern. The organic named Helena Shan most closely matched that pattern."

Lal thought back to the computer intelligence she'd discovered on Dantooine; how it had recorded her voice, reciting a code she didn't remember. Evidence that she had been there before with Revan and Malak.

"Does my genetic pattern match the one you sought?" she asked.

The droid paused for a moment, staring up and down at Lal. "Scanning. Scanning. Pattern analysis commencing. Please stand by. Stand by." It cocked its head to the side once more, and its bright eyes flickered in intensity. "Statement: probability of genetic match 100 percent. Voice matching in progress. Reassigning user access protocols. Subject Lal Shan redesignated as primary user. Stand by. How may I serve you, Mistress?"

Lal gasped and shook her head. "No..no…" she stepped back, and felt her head spinning. She staggered back another step and dropped abruptly to her bottom. "No! But that would mean…that would mean I was with them…"

"Interrogative: With whom, Mistress?"

Carth came running out from the house, his blasters at the ready. "Get away from her, you damned monster!" he screamed, skidding to his knees at Lal's side to support her. "What did you do to her?"

HK lunged forward and yanked Carth up by the throat and held him away from Lal. Lal's eyes bulged as she realized what was happening and she fought to stand. "No! Leave him alone! He's a friend! Don't hurt him!"

HK immediately dropped Carth to the ground. "Acknowledgement. Mistress, does this meatbag possess a primary designation that I should save-to-file?"

"C-Carth," Lal said, moving to help him. Carth grasped his throat and coughed raggedly. "His name is Carth Onasi, and you will not harm him! You…I…you file away all of my companions as such, do you hear me? You don't hurt them!"

"Observation: no need to yell, Mistress…"

"Damn," Carth gasped, staring up at the droid. "What in the hell kind of droid is he supposed to be?"

"Some sort of…killer…an assault droid maybe," Lal sighed, wrapping her arms around Carth tightly. "I don't know. Its memory is…incomplete. Like…mine. Carth…I think…I think this droid belonged to me…"

"Before you lost your memories?"

Lal nodded. "I think that I…programmed it to come and protect my mother…"

"Statement;" HK said, "there is no reason to talk about me as if I am not here, Mistress."

"If I'm right…I think it might know where the Starmap data is…"


End file.
